#i caught it before it could get really bad

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously��”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

might do a part 2 where a club is chosen

[jayybugg]

drunken confessions

Theodore Nott x FemRavenclaw!Reader

Summary: Theo drinks a little bit more than he should....

Warnings: Drinking, No use of Y/N, Only mentions being in Ravenclaw once, and very cute???

Word Count: 1.6K

Note: Long time no see, my loves! I took a really long hiatus abruptly because life was kicking my ass badly. I decided that my first fic back should be a Theo fluff because who would I be if I didn't give this boy all of my attention? I hope you guys all enjoy it.

Banners by @cafekitsune

Music boomed through the Slytherin common room as you tried to navigate the sweaty bodies and screaming teens. You were trying to find Theodore, the person who had invited you. It was a celebratory party for Slytherin winning the quidditch game against Hufflepuff. You were in the Ravenclaw house but are good friends with many people in Slytherin.

"Oy," Draco pulled you to the side, "Looking for Theo?"

"Yeah, you've seen him?" you asked, gripping his arm so no one could separate you both. Draco nodded, pulling you to a separate room where Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, and Theo sat.

"Finally, you're here." Daphne pulled you in for a hug, whispering in your ear, "Drunk pants over there have been asking about you for the past hour."

You glanced over at Theo, who was very drunk. "He never drinks this much." You whispered back to Daphne. She shrugged. "He caught the stitch. Winner of the game tonight."

You nodded, walking over to Theo and sitting next to him. He immediately grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I've been waiting for you all night," Theo said, speaking slowly so his words didn't get slurred.

"I'm sorry. Why'd you drink so much without me?" You asked, tapping softly on his wrist. "I didn't mean to." Theo said, "Won the game, so people had given me a bunch of drinks."

You nodded, allowing Theo to go back to being the life of the party. Enzo sat down next to you, to keep you company as the party continued.

"So, what's your excuse for not being at the game tonight?" Enzo asked.

"That project for Transfiguration. My partner is an idiot who waited last minute to do his part, so I had to help him. I feel bad for missing it." You said, taking a sip of your water.

"Theo was upset that you weren't there. Probably what motivated him to win the game. That boy is obsessed with you," Enzo said, nudging you. You cleared your throat, feeling a sudden sense of nervousness. "We're just friends, Enzo."

"For now." Enzo wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed at him, rolling your eyes.

Did you like Theo? Yeah, but you didn't think he would like you back. He had a lot of girls on him and he could choose any of them. You were so wrapped in your mind and your conversation that you didn't notice that Theo had wandered off until you heard your name being called.

"Take Theo back to his dorm, please!" Blaise pleaded as he and Mattheo held a nearly blacked-out Theo up. You hopped up, grabbing Theo from them.

"Oh, hey, pretty girl." Theo drunkenly grinned at you. You smiled back. "You should've stopped drinking, Teddy."

"Really should've." Mattheo agreed. "You know where his dorm is. Don't worry about cleaning up down here, we got it."

You nodded, saying your goodbyes to everyone before walking upstairs to Theo's room.

"Pretty girl." Theo dragged out the pet name. "Your hair is so soft."

"Thanks, Teddy." You opened the door to his room, switched on the lights, and put him on the bed.

"Come on, let's get you in pajamas." You tapped his nose lightly, making him smile at you.

"You're so pretty, pretty girl. That's why I call you 'pretty girl' because you're so fucking pretty. Sometimes I think you're otherworldly because of it," Theo gushed, falling back on his bed. You felt your heartbeat pick up as the compliments flowed from Theo's mouth.

"Thank you, Theo. Here, put this shirt on." You handed the shirt to Theo, who shook his head no. "I like to be shirtless."

Theo pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper. You tried your best not to stare at his chest before handing him a pair of pants.

"You're taking good care of me, pretty girl. I wish you could always take care of me. Merlin, I love you so much." Theo spoke again. You felt your eyes widen as you looked at him. "What?" You said softly.

"I love you like I'm so in love with you. I just want to be with you all the time." Theo continued. You cleared your throat, pushing him under the covers. Theo was clearly saying anything to you because he was drunk. If Pansy or Daphne were here, he would probably say the same thing. You forced yourself to repeat that to yourself repeatedly so you could believe it.

"Get some sleep, Theo, goodnight." You switched off his light as you swung his door open. "Goodnight, my pretty girl. I love you." Theo said.

You quickly shut the door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. You didn't know how to interpret what had just happened. Theo admitted to being in love with you. Or did he? He was drunk, so he probably wasn't serious. Yeah, he was drunk. You took a deep breath before making your way back downstairs.

Mattheo saw you hurry down the stairs and raised his eyebrow at you, "You good? Is Theo okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine. I'm just gonna go back to my dorm," You said. Mattheo eyed you, "What happened?"

"What? Why would anything happen?" You asked, diverting your eyes anywhere but to Mattheo's.

"..."

You sighed, glancing down at your feet, "Theo said he was in love with me."

The room froze as everyone turned their heads to look at you. Suddenly, you felt tiny. "What? Why are you guys staring at me like that?" You asked.

"Nothing! It's just...." Daphne glanced at everyone, "We didn't expect Theo to confess that when he was drunk."

"Yeah, I had galleons on an angry confession followed by an angry, passionate kiss," Draco said, causing Pansy to hit him in the arm.

You blinked. Confess? Confess as in.... he's been holding this in for a long time?

"Wait, so he's telling the truth, and you all knew it?" You asked. Everyone made noises in agreement.

"I mean, everyone can see how head over heels he is for you. You were the only one denying it." Blaise said. Your face felt hot, and you shook your head, "I'm going to my dorm."

Everyone laughed, bidding you goodbye.

Theo woke up the next day with a terrible headache.

"Ahh, there's our champion." Blaise's teasing voice caused Theo to groan.

"Why would I ever drink that much?" Theo asked, mainly to himself. Enzo laughed, setting a cup of water and some medicine on Theo's bedside. "I don't know, but it was quite entertaining to see you get taken care of by your pretty girl." Enzo's voice was teasing and light.

Theo's face immediately heated at the idea of acting like a fool in front of you. "Did I do something stupid in front of her?"

Blaise and Enzo shared a look before shrugging. Theo looked at both of them. "What? What did I do? Oh, Merlin, tell me I didn't embarrass myself."

"I wouldn't say you embarrassed yourself," Blaise said.

"But sober Theo definitely wouldn't have confessed to her that he's in love with her," Enzo said.

It took Theo a moment to realize what Enzo had said before his face turned completely red in shame and embarrassment.

"I told her I was in love with her?" Theo groaned loudly. That was not how he pictured confessing to you. Well, he never pictured confessing his feelings to you because he was scared and had no intentions of doing it.

"It's a good thing, don't you think? I mean, she finally knows." Blaise said, "Although she might need some convincing because she thinks you only said it because you were drunk and probably didn't mean it."

Theo hopped out of his bed, finding the nearest t-shirt before slipping on his shoes. He had already confessed how he felt and if it's already out there, there's no point in hiding it.

Theo spirited to your dorm, not muttering a good morning to anyone as he pushed past them. Finally, he got to your dorm and banged on it until he heard your feet shuffling.

"Teddy?" You asked groggily before focusing your eyes on the out-of-breath and frizzled Theo in front of you, "What the hell happened to you?"

"I meant it."

"What?"

There was silence between you two. He knew you knew what he was talking about, so it didn't take long for realization to take over your face.

"I meant it." Theo repeated himself, "Every word I said last night while I was sloppy drunk was true."

"I have been trying to work up the courage to say something about it for the last year or so. Granted, I didn't think it would be while I was drunk."

"How long?" You tilted your head to the side, with a hint of amusement gracing your face.

Theo's face flushed pink, as he knew you were teasing him, as well as being genuinely curious. "Since first year. When I saw you on the train to school."

"You didn't even speak to me until third year."

"I was nervous." Theo let out a breath. "I watched you, though."

You held back a laugh as Theo immediately turned even more red. "That was creepy. I didn't mean it like that! I just— we've shared a lot of classes and— I'm going to shut up."

You stood on your tippy toes, kissing Theo's flushed cheeks. "I've had a crush on you since second year."

"Really?"

You nodded, smiling. "So what now?"

"Um, will you go on a date with me? Maybe next weekend after the quidditch game?" Theo asked, feeling more nervous than ever.

"I would love to, " you smiled. And I won't miss this game, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that." Theo smiled back.

You gave Theo another kiss on the cheek. "It's still early. I'll see you later, okay?"

Theo nodded, and you smiled, closing your door. Theo stayed there for a few more seconds until he realized he probably looked crazy for just smiling at your door.

Who knew getting drunk had some perks?

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt. 3

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

PART ONE | PART TWO

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ i feel bad for changing the tags so often bcs i really dont wanna catfish ppl into my story BUT I GENUINELY DIDNT PLAN THIS STORY OUT SO EVEN I DONT KNOW HOW THIS IS GONNA END

wcજ⁀➴ 5.6k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie

The cool breeze cut through the streets, but you barely felt it—your mind too occupied with the thoughts swirling around you. It had been a quiet kind of afternoon, the kind that you could lose yourself in, if only you weren’t so aware of every little thing happening around you.

You were meeting up with Gojo, Geto, and Shoko, as usual. At least, that was what you told yourself when you agreed to tag along. But this wasn’t just any other meetup. Gojo had insisted—practically begged—that everyone finally meet someone important to him.

“It’ll be great!” his voice echoed in your head, far too enthusiastic. “I want you guys to meet Mina properly. She’s really excited to get to know you all, too!”

And so, here you were now. Standing at the corner of a familiar street, waiting at the meetup spot, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as the cool breeze nipped at your skin. The streets were quieter than usual, the kind of calm that made you feel more aware of the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Your mind inevitably wandered, drifting to the idea of finally meeting Mina up close. You’d seen her before, of course, but only from a distance. The cheerleading team had always been easy to spot at school events, and you’d watch her from the sidelines, noticing the way she effortlessly blended into the crowd, always smiling, always surrounded by laughter.

There was something almost magnetic about her—something perfect. The way she carried herself, the way her laughter seemed to light up a room. Even from afar, you couldn’t deny that she was stunning. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was obvious. She was the kind of pretty that made heads turn, the kind of perfect that seemed like it belonged next to someone like Gojo. The way they spoke about her, the way he looked at her, it all seemed like the pieces of a picture that fit together so effortlessly.

You tried to push the thoughts away, but they lingered in the back of your mind. Would she really be as perfect in person as she was from a distance? Would she live up to the image you had built in your head without even realizing it?

The sound of footsteps pulling you back to reality made you glance up, only to see Gojo, Geto, Shoko—and Mina, standing with them. She was everything you imagined and more. Pretty, confident, and with a kind of presence that seemed to match Gojo’s energy effortlessly. Your stomach twisted.

As your gaze met Mina’s, you felt a fleeting, sharp pang in your chest. She was even more striking up close—her warm eyes and inviting smile only confirmed what you’d observed from afar. Everything about her seemed effortless, like she belonged with Gojo, almost like she was made for him.

Her eyes caught yours, and there was a brief moment where everything felt suspended—until she broke the silence with a bright, friendly smile. “Hey, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she said, her voice cheerful, full of sincerity.

You hesitated for just a second, but it was enough for your heart to betray you, tightening in your chest as you forced a smile onto your face. “Yeah, you too,” you replied, hoping your tone didn’t sound as strained as it felt.

Mina’s smile didn’t waver, and for that, you were grateful. “Satoru’s told me so much about you all,” she said, her voice light and warm. “It feels like I already know you guys.”

“Oh, has he now?” Geto chimed in, his voice teasing as he shot a glance at Gojo. “I’m almost scared to ask what he said about us.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “It was all good things... mostly.”

Shoko snorted, crossing her arms. “Knowing Satoru, I wouldn’t be surprised if he exaggerated every story.”

“Exaggerate? Me?” Gojo put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I would never!” He turned to Mina with a grin. “Don’t listen to them. I’m the most honest guy you’ll ever meet.”

“Right,” you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Geto beside you.

Mina glanced your way, her smile growing as if she had caught your comment. “You must be the sarcastic one,” she said lightly, her tone playful. “Satoru mentioned that.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. “Did he?” you managed, keeping your tone neutral, though inside you felt a flicker of something—was it warmth? Embarrassment? Jealousy? You couldn’t tell.

“He said you’re his closest friend,” Mina continued, her sincerity disarming. “That you’ve always been there for him.”

Your throat tightened at that. “Yeah, well,” you said, shrugging as casually as you could manage. “Someone’s gotta keep him in line.”

Mina laughed again, and it was such a soft, genuine sound that you hated how much you wanted to dislike her. But you couldn’t. She was kind, effortlessly charming, and genuinely seemed to care about making a good impression.

“Alright, alright,” Gojo interrupted, throwing an arm around Mina’s shoulder and grinning at all of you. “Let’s get going before Suguru starts roasting me, or Ieiri finds a way to embarrass me.”

“I don’t have to find ways,” Shoko deadpanned, smirking.

As the group started moving, you walked alongside them, listening to their chatter but feeling a little outside of it all. Mina was a natural fit, seamlessly blending into the dynamic like she’d always been a part of it. Watching her laugh with Geto and Shoko, seeing how easily Gojo leaned into her space, it all felt too... right.

You tried to shake off the nagging feeling, reminding yourself that this was what Gojo wanted—to have his friends meet someone important to him. And Mina, in every way, lived up to the role.

Still, as you glanced at them—Gojo’s arm draped over her shoulder, Mina looking up at him with that easy, perfect smile—you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever stop feeling like you were standing on the outside looking in.

The small café came into view, its warm glow spilling out onto the sidewalk. It was cozy, tucked away from the bustling streets, and one of those places that always smelled like fresh coffee and baked goods. Gojo pushed the door open dramatically, holding it for everyone with a grin that was, as always, a little too much.

“After you, my queen,” he said to Mina, bowing exaggeratedly as she stepped inside, laughing softly.

You trailed in last, your hands stuffed into your pockets as you followed the group to a corner booth. The seating arrangement seemed to happen naturally—Gojo slid in first, pulling Mina down beside him, while Shoko casually took the seat across from them. You hesitated a second too long, and Geto nudged your shoulder, gesturing for you to sit beside him.

So you did. Sliding into the seat, you felt Geto glance at you briefly. It wasn’t much, just a quick flicker of his dark eyes, but it carried a weight you couldn’t quite decipher. He didn’t say anything, though, and neither did you.

The chatter resumed easily enough. Gojo was in full swing, dominating the conversation with some ridiculous story about their last mission. Mina listened intently, her laughter ringing out at all the right moments. Even Shoko seemed mildly amused, her smirk betraying her usual cool detachment.

You wanted to focus on the conversation, to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of your friends’ banter, but your thoughts kept drifting. Mina fit in so well, like she’d always been part of the group. The ease with which she spoke to Geto, how she didn’t hesitate to tease Shoko lightly—it was effortless.

And yet, it made you feel... out of place. Like you were watching it all unfold from behind some invisible barrier.

“You okay?” Geto’s voice was low, quiet enough that it didn’t interrupt the others. His gaze was steady, unreadable.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ve been quiet,” he said simply, leaning back in his seat. “More than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Geto didn’t press further, but the knowing look in his eyes lingered. He was always good at reading people, especially you. It was both comforting and unsettling.

“Hey, you two over there,” Gojo called out, pointing at you and Geto with a playful grin. “Are we boring you or something? You’re awfully quiet.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Not everything needs to be a performance, Satoru.”

Gojo gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. “A performance? This is entertainment, Sugu! You should be thanking me.”

“More like tolerating you,” Shoko muttered, sipping her coffee.

The table burst into laughter, Mina included. You chuckled along with them, though it felt hollow. As the conversation shifted again, you found yourself stealing glances at Mina and Gojo. The way she leaned into him, how his arm rested casually on the back of the booth behind her—it all felt so natural.

And yet, a part of you wished it didn’t.

The conversation flowed around you, and you caught yourself drifting again, staring absentmindedly at the coffee cup in front of you. It was silly. You had no reason to feel this way—this quiet, gnawing feeling deep in your chest. Maybe it was just the weight of how easily Mina had slipped into this dynamic, how effortlessly she made everyone smile. But you weren’t a child. You weren’t some outsider. You were one of Gojo’s closest friends. So why the hell did it feel like you were on the sidelines?

A sigh escaped you before you could stop it, and you cursed under your breath. Get it together, you thought, forcing your eyes to flick up.

When you did, you found yourself meeting Mina’s gaze. Her expression was warm, a little hesitant, but there was something real there. She wasn’t trying to dominate the conversation or make everything about her, but she was giving it her all, smiling, laughing, and just... being present. It was clear she was genuinely making the effort to be part of the group, to get to know everyone—not just Gojo, but the rest of you too.

And as you watched her, you realized that maybe this feeling of yours wasn’t about her at all. Maybe it was about you. About how, for all your history with Gojo, you’d never felt as though you were part of this easy, natural rhythm before. You’d never had to share him with anyone in this way.

But Mina was doing everything right. She wasn’t overstepping, wasn’t pushing. She just fit. And something about that made you feel like you should try harder, too. It wasn’t about competition; it was about inclusion.

You cleared your throat, feeling an odd shift in the air. It was time to say something. Something that would help her feel even more welcome, even though the jealousy—small as it was—still lingered under the surface. It was ridiculous to feel threatened by her. She wasn’t taking Gojo away; she was just adding to the group dynamic.

You took a deep breath, pushing the weight of your lingering thoughts aside. You couldn’t afford to let this strange unease keep creeping in. It wasn’t fair to either of you, and especially not to Mina, who was genuinely trying to be a part of the group and you weren’t going to let the discomfort linger anymore.

"So, tell us more about yourself, Mina," you said, trying to keep it light, leaning back in your seat. "We know the basics, but I feel like there's so much more to you."

Mina's face lit up at your question, the shift in energy already palpable as she relaxed. Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she thought for a moment, clearly appreciative of your effort to make her feel a part of the group.

"Well, where do I even start?" she said with a little laugh, running a hand through her hair. "I guess, I’m a cheerleader, obviously," she added, her smile a little sheepish. "But it's not all flips and chants, you know? I mean, I do it because I genuinely love it—there’s something about being part of the team, getting everyone hyped up, and seeing everyone come together that feels... energizing."

You nodded, genuinely interested. "Yeah, that makes sense. You seem like you enjoy it."

Mina grinned, clearly relieved to be asked about something she was passionate about. "Definitely! It's a lot of hard work, though. You wouldn’t believe how much practice goes into it, especially with the team. I’m always on my toes—literally. Plus, we’ve got some pretty intense competitions coming up, so it's been non-stop."

As Mina spoke, her voice full of warmth and excitement, you couldn't help but smile. It was hard not to be drawn in by her energy, the way she lit up when she talked about cheerleading and the team. There was something infectious about her enthusiasm, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to let go of that gnawing discomfort, just listening to her without any reservations.

You watched as her hands moved animatedly, illustrating her points about the intensity of practice and the thrill of the competitions. Her passion for what she did was evident in every word she spoke. Despite the strange tangle of emotions that still simmered inside you, a part of you couldn't help but admire her. She was so effortlessly likable, so kind, and it was impossible not to feel a sense of warmth toward her.

It was ridiculous, really. Mina was Gojo’s girlfriend now, and you were here, in the moment, enjoying the conversation. The past was just that—the past. You were here, part of this group, and that’s all that should matter. So you smiled, genuinely, as she finished talking, and offered her an encouraging nod.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to shift. Mina glanced around, and then her gaze settled on you, a curious expression in her eyes.

"So," she began, her tone light and friendly. "What about you? What do you do outside of all this college stuff?"

Before you could respond, Geto leaned back in his chair, glancing at you with that usual smirk. "Ah, she's in a band," he said, his voice laced with an easy-going amusement. "Plays guitar, right? You should ask her to play something sometime. She’s got skills."

As soon as Geto finished speaking, Gojo shot forward in his seat, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said, eyes wide as he turned to Mina. “She’s the guitarist, and let me tell you, she's a legend. Plays it like it’s an extension of her body. I swear, every time she picks it up, it’s like magic happens.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you shot him a glare, trying to push down the embarrassment. He had this uncanny ability to make you feel like the center of attention without even trying, but right now? You just wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Gojo, please," you muttered, rubbing your face in mock frustration, though part of you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he was being.

“No, no,” Gojo insisted, practically grinning ear to ear. “You need to hear her play, Mina. She’s got this raw, natural talent—totally different vibe from anything you’ve ever heard. Honestly, I’d go so far as to say she's got the kind of skills that could put some of those big-name bands to shame.”

Mina’s eyes widened, clearly impressed, while you tried not to visibly cringe. “Wow, really?” she asked, clearly intrigued. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that about you! What kind of music do you play?”

You felt yourself squirm a little under the attention, but you forced a small, humble smile. “I mean, Satoru’s just exaggerating,” you said, glancing over at Gojo with a playful roll of your eyes. “But I do love playing. It’s just... it’s kind of my thing. My band’s mostly into indie—nothing too fancy, just some good tunes to vibe to.”

Mina nodded, clearly still intrigued, but before she could say anything else, Shoko, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in with her usual casual tone.

“Wait,” Shoko said, her eyes flicking toward you with a smirk. “Your band’s got a performance coming up, right? In about a month, I think?”

You blinked, surprised she remembered. "Yeah," you said, your voice a little quieter now, a flicker of nerves showing through. "It’s actually a pretty big one. There’s going to be some scouts there—so it's not just any usual gig. It’s kind of a big deal for us."

Mina’s eyes widened at that, her expression shifting from casual curiosity to genuine interest. “Scouts?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious. “That’s amazing! Is this the kind of thing you’ve been working toward?”

You nodded, trying to keep your composure, but the nerves were creeping in. "Yeah, it’s a big opportunity for the band. We’ve been putting in a lot of work to make sure we’re ready for it."

Mina smiled brightly, clearly impressed. "I can only imagine how exciting that must be. I’m sure you’re gonna kill it. Maybe we should all go and watch!"

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the conversation, and the waitress approached with a tray. As soon as she reached the table, she paused, eyes lighting up as she recognized Gojo.

"I’ve got your usual." She said in a sing-song manner, a casual grin laced on her face.

You watched as she placed the familiar dessert in front of Gojo. It was something you and Gojo had always ordered together over the years. A simple sundae, but it had evolved into something far more unique. Back when you were in middle school and had first ordered this, the two of you had added every weird topping and extra bit you could think of. The first few times you’d order it, the dessert would always get confused or judgmental glances from waitstaff, who had no idea what to make of your creation. Even the newer servers still gave a look of uncertainty when they brought it to you, unsure if they’d gotten it right. But over time, it had become your thing—your signature order.

Gojo grinned like a kid as he slid the dessert between him and Mina, pushing it towards her with an enthusiastic gesture.

“Here you go, babe,” Gojo said, his tone playful. “I know it looks a little… weird but trust me. It’s a masterpiece. Don’t judge it until you’ve tried it.”

Mina hesitated, her gaze flicking between the toppings piled high and the spoon in Gojo’s hand. You could see the skepticism on her face, but after a moment, she took a tentative bite. The way her eyes widened in surprise made it clear she hadn’t expected it to taste that good.

"This... is actually amazing," Mina said, her tone a mix of surprise and approval. “I didn’t think it’d work, but it totally does!”

Gojo laughed, clearly pleased. “Told ya. The best things are always a little unexpected.” His eyes sparkled as he looked at her, clearly proud of the creation.

Unable to continue watching them gush over the dessert, you tore your gaze away and tried to focus on the food being served to the rest of the table. You picked up your fork, trying to push aside the tight feeling in your chest.

Just then, Geto, with his usual smug expression, cut a slice from his pancakes and held the fork in front of you.

“Here,” Geto said with a smirk, as though he were about to do the same thing Gojo had just done. “Open wide.”

You looked up at him in confusion, blinking. “What are you doing?”

Geto didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he nudged his head toward Gojo and Mina, who were now happily discussing the dessert and sharing it between themselves. You could feel the small pang in your chest again at the sight, and Geto must have caught on, because his smirk only deepened.

You couldn't help but flick your gaze back to Gojo and Mina once more, watching the way he smiled at her, the two of them so effortlessly comfortable with each other. A pang of something you couldn't quite place squeezed at your chest, and you quickly averted your eyes.

But as you were met face to face with the pancakes still in front of your face, you looked up at Geto, deadpanning with a frown. “Seriously?” you muttered, your voice tinged with an exasperated sigh. He was still holding the fork out, practically dangling it in front of you like it was some kind of challenge.

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned forward and took the bite from his fork, trying to ignore the feeling of discomfort that was still gnawing at you. The food didn’t help distract from the odd tension building up in your chest, but at least it gave you something to do.

Geto grinned smugly as you ate, clearly pleased with himself. You chewed the bite, trying to push aside the strange, tight feeling in your chest. It wasn’t the food, nor Geto’s teasing, that was bothering you; it was the way Gojo and Mina seemed to be in their own little world. The way Gojo looked at her, the way they laughed together—it all seemed too natural. Too perfect.

Before you could shake off the feeling, Gojo suddenly cut through the moment with an exaggerated, playful tone. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s going on between you two?” He leaned forward slightly, a grin still on his lips, but there was something a little off about his tone—almost as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to be amused or... something else.

You raised an eyebrow, not quite sure what to make of it. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo gestured at you and Geto with his fork. “I mean, you two have been acting like you’re in your own little world since we arrived just now.” His eyes flicked between the two of you, his usual easy grin still on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Geto shrugged nonchalantly, cutting into his pancakes. “We’re just eating, Satoru. Chill.” He took a bite, clearly unfazed by the question.

Gojo paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Geto and then on you, as though trying to gauge something. “Yeah, sure, just eating,” he said, but the slight edge in his voice didn’t escape you. He quickly smiled again, though, and his attention shifted back to Mina. “Anyway, you like it, right?” he asked, directing his focus back to her as if to put the moment behind him.

You were still trying to piece together what had just happened, trying to make sense of Gojo’s sudden shift in attitude, but before you could overthink it, you decided to push it aside. It wasn’t worth dwelling on—whatever it was. So you focused back on your food, trying to ignore the small knot of confusion that had formed in your chest. It was probably nothing, right?

You glanced over at Shoko, hoping to distract yourself from whatever had just simmered in the air between you and Gojo. She had been quiet during the entire exchange, but now she was staring at the scene before her, completely deadpan. Her gaze flicked between you, Gojo, and Geto, the only reaction being a slow, unamused blink and a deep, weary sigh.

────────────────────────────────────────────

After the cafe, the atmosphere had softened a bit, but the there was a slight tension from earlier that still hung in the air, mostly because of Gojo. You tried to focus on the lighthearted chatter, but the nagging feeling didn’t completely leave you. Gojo was acting... off, and you couldn’t quite shake the odd feeling in your chest when you thought about how he’d reacted earlier.

The ride back to your apartment was uneventful, the conversation flowing easily between Geto and Shoko while you mostly listened, lost in thought. Gojo, however, seemed quieter than usual, distracted even.

When you arrived at the building, Gojo insisted on coming up with you, claiming he needed a “quick pee” before the drive back. The rest of the group stayed in the car downstairs, which was just fine with you. The lift ride was silent at first, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound between you and Gojo.

Then, Gojo finally broke the silence, his voice light but tinged with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. “So, you and Suguru seem pretty close these days.”

You glanced at him, brows furrowing a little. “What do you mean?”

Gojo didn’t look at you as he leaned against the wall, arms folded. His tone was nonchalant, but there was something sharp beneath it. “I don’t know, just seemed like you two were... getting along pretty well just now. Spending a lot of time together, more than usual.”

There was a brief pause before he added, almost too casually, “Guess I never really pictured you and Suguru that close. But hey, whatever works.”

You blinked, the words landing heavier than you expected. “We’re just friends, ‘Toru.”

He gave a small, barely noticeable smirk, his eyes still not meeting yours. “Yeah, sure, just friends,” he said, voice a little too easy, but the faint edge in it was still there. He pushed off the wall as the elevator dinged, doors sliding open—but he didn’t step out.

You stepped out of the elevator first, waiting for Gojo to follow, but he didn’t move. Instead, he pressed the button to close the doors, looking at you with a lazy grin.

“Actually, I don’t feel like peeing anymore,” he said, his tone back to its usual playfulness as a chuckle slipped past his lips. “See ya.”

The doors slid shut before you could respond, leaving you standing there, feeling strangely confused.

Gojo leaned against the elevator wall, eyes half-lidded as he watched you step out. He pressed the button to close the doors before you could take another step, the action more impulsive than planned.

“Actually, I don’t feel like peeing anymore,” he said with a playful grin, the words leaving his mouth so easily that even he didn’t think much of it at first. His usual charm was there, but this time, it didn’t feel quite as natural.

You paused, looking back at him, and for a second, there was that expression on your face—confusion, curiosity, the way you always seemed to try and read him. Good luck with that. Even he wasn’t sure what was going on in his head.

Gojo held your gaze for a beat, his smirk faltering just slightly. He could feel the weight of the silence between you two, an awkward tension hanging in the air. But he ignored it. No need to read too much into this, right?

He waved you off, pushing the button again and watching the doors close.

“See ya,” he muttered, though his voice didn’t carry the usual lightness. His mind wandered back to the conversation, or rather, the subtle mention of Suguru.

It was nothing, really. He had no right to feel anything about it but if his best friend was going to get closer to one of his other friends—hell, maybe even start something—he had a right to know, right? Friends should keep each other in the loop, and that was all this was. He wasn’t supposed to care. Not really.

But then, his thoughts lingered on the image of you and Suguru together. Laughing, talking like you were the only two people in the room. He’d seen it, noticed it earlier. And now... it wasn’t sitting right with him.

He rubbed his temples as the elevator doors slid open, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. Maybe he was just overthinking it. It was just... it was just weird, that’s all. Seeing you with Suguru like that. They were close, sure, but that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

But still, the more he thought about it, the more the thought of you and Suguru together—the way you looked at him, the way your smiles came easy—left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hated it. He hated that feeling. And it made him want to forget about it, brush it off. So he did.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, keeping his gaze forward as he walked away. No need to dwell. It was just one of those things. It didn’t matter.

Gojo barely registered the walk back to his car. His mind was still occupied with the odd heaviness he couldn’t shake, lingering just below the surface. As he reached the vehicle, he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, the cool leather beneath him offering little comfort.

He didn’t start the engine right away. Instead, he glanced up at the rearview mirror, eyes landing onto Suguru for just a moment. Suguru, sitting in the back, was engrossed in his phone, probably texting someone he didn’t need to be texting at that hour. Gojo’s gaze lingered on him, but something in the pit of his stomach shifted, and without even thinking, his eyes flickered to the passenger seat.

Mina was there, leaning back with a soft smile, her eyes twinkling under the dim streetlights. She caught his gaze and tilted her head playfully. "Got a good pee?" she asked, her voice light, teasing.

He smirked, the easy expression sliding back onto his face like a well-worn mask. "Yeah," he replied, the word coming too smoothly, almost like he was trying to convince himself. His hand moved instinctively to her thigh, squeezing it lightly as he looked at her, letting the familiarity of her touch settle him.

She didn’t seem to mind, giving him a grin before shifting her focus back to whatever it was she was doing. Gojo’s thumb brushed over her leg absentmindedly, and the motion felt automatic, like he was just doing what he always did.

He started the car, the engine humming to life, and without another thought, he pulled out of the parking spot, heading toward the main road. "I’ll drop you guys off first," he said, his voice casual, still somewhat distant as he motioned to the two at the back with a nudge of his head.

Mina hummed an acknowledgment, and Suguru muttered something from the backseat, but Gojo didn’t really hear it. His attention was elsewhere, pulled back to the fleeting thought of you again—the way you were with Suguru, the way you talked to him. The thought lingered, biting at him more than it should.

He gripped the wheel a little tighter, but it was too late to push the feeling down. It kept crawling back, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

────────────────────────────────────────────

With Geto and Shoko finally sent home, Gojo was nearing the last house – Mina’s. He parked by the sidewalk as they approached the apartment complex and took the elevator up. As they reached Mina's front door, Gojo slowed his steps, hands casually tucked in his pockets. The soft glow of the porch light framed Mina’s face, her features lit with that ever-present, effortless cheerfulness. He always liked that about her—how easy she made everything feel.

"Thanks for sending me home," Mina said, her voice light but tinged with affection.

"Anything for you," Gojo replied smoothly, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "What kind of guy would I be if I just let you fend for yourself out here?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You’re so dramatic."

As she turned to unlock the door, Gojo took a step closer, reaching out. Gently, he placed his hands on her cheeks, his touch warm and lingering. Mina blinked up at him, caught off guard but not uncomfortable. If anything, her grin widened as he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.

It was slow and deliberate, a soft gesture that made Mina’s eyes flutter shut. Her heart felt light, and when he pulled back, she looked up at him with a contented smile, unaware of the shadow of thought crossing his face.

Gojo’s eyes lingered on her, a furrow forming between his brows as his thumb absentmindedly brushed over her cheek. His expression softened, almost distant, like he was seeing someone else entirely.

“Gojo?” Mina tilted her head, her grin dimming slightly as she studied him. “You okay?”

Her voice pulled him out of his trance, sharp in its difference—cheerful where he’d expected something quieter, something familiar. For just a split second, his hand paused before he masked his hesitation with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his tone light as always, but Mina caught the way he inhaled deeply, as if to steady himself. “I was just admiring your face. You’re, like, unfairly cute, you know that?”

Mina rolled her eyes with a laugh, her earlier concern dissipating. “Flatterer.”

He took a step back, giving her one last grin. “Goodnight, Mina. Dream about me, yeah?”

She smiled back, waving as she slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her.

Gojo turned on his heel, walking down the path with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His smirk faded as soon as he was out of sight, his mind replaying the moment Mina spoke. The voice he’d expected—it wasn’t hers. And no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, that momentary lapse clung to him like a ghost he couldn’t quite let go of.

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ keep on comin’ back

babydaddy!toji x fem!reader

the reason he keeps on comin back.

tags: dilf toji, explicit language, dirty talking, creaming, squirting, mentions of breeding, missionary, riding, creampie, nipple play, spanking, etc.

note: shoutout to oomf who said toji keeps coming back to me, you the inspo for this.

“What are you doing here? It’s not my week—hi megs, mimi!” you diverted your attention from your baby daddy to your adopted son and your daughter, hugging their small bodies; before letting them inside of your house.

Turning back around to block him from getting in, you bring up your question again. “What are you doing here? Don’t think you’re getting any, last time was a mistake.”

“Last time we almost gave those two another sibling and I didn’t hear you complaining when you were screaming my name and scratching my back up, while i made you cum back to back.” You bit your lip as he helped you remember the last time he unexpectedly came over, which led to you having multiple mind blowing orgasms that night; and a pregnancy scare.

“well that’s never gonna happen again. now are you gonna answer me?” you stared at his green eyes, arms folded over one another—unconsciously pushing your boobs up through your black beater.

“megumi’s supposed to be having a sleepover with his best friend, yuuji, at our place, but the plumbing’s backed up for like a good week. so, he asked could we do it at mommy’s house. plus, mimi said she missed her mommy.” you cooed and looked back at your daughter and step-son, watching them play with one another.

and before you could open your mouth up to ask a follow up question, toji beat you to the punch.

“tried to find somewhere else for me to go. but, there wasn’t any hotels available. and i think it would be great for the kids to have both parents under one roof. what do ya think?” he asked and you sighed, before moving aside to let him in.

“bags are in the truck,” he smiled and kissed your cheek, turning on his heel to grab their things from his car.

being in an on again and off again relationship with each other was took a toll on you both, but it was also tough for the kids. they couldn’t understand why mommy and daddy aren’t together, however it was moments like this they were happy to have. and deep down inside, you both felt the same.

Toji returned with their bags and made his way up their stairs to the kids room, and the guest bedroom, with mimi hot on his tail. While the two of them got situated upstairs, megumi followed you into the kitchen to help you with tonight’s meal. You giggled as you watched him put on his mini apron before stepping onto his stool to watch you clean some meat for dinner.

Megumi watched with an intent stare as you moved with ease, learning from you while you cooked. “mommy? do you love dad?”

his question caught you by surprise and you nearly sliced your finger off. “yes, but not as much as i love you,” he giggled when you ruffled his raven locks before focusing back on the meal. although megumi’s mom died when he was a baby, you still loved him like he was your own. and truth be told, you really did love toji; no matter how many times he annoyed you.

“so, then why aren’t you guys married? my friend yuuji said that his dad said if two people love each, they should marry each other. plus, i saw this shiny ring in dad’s room at the other house—“

you eyes were wide. a fucking ring? there’s no way—maybe he’s got someone else in mind…right?

“mm…i don’t know. hey, you wanna have that sleepover still? go get the house phone and I’ll call yuuji’s dad.” you nervously laughed and watched him leave, before sighing out.

there’s no way, right?

—

the next couple of hours flew by, your mind was practically a blur—still caught up on the fact that toji has a ring and that he could possibly propose to you.

even though you guys broke up on good terms, parts of you missed him. real bad. you missed having him in your arms at night. missed his scent being all over you. missed him being with you and the kids. missed having him so deep inside of you almost every night.

and the reason the two of you broke up was because of him. he pushed you away, pushed you away from his heart.

yuuji came over and was having a ball with your kids, before the three of them crashed for the night, finally allowing you to have some time for yourself. you lounged on your plush brown couch, glass of wine in your hand as you caught up with one of your favorite shows, when toji’s deep voice echoed through your ears.

“knew I would find you here. what are ya watching?”

“uhh supernatural….toji can i ask you a question?”

“ya just did,” he chuckled and ducked when you hit him in the head with a throw pillow. “you know what i meant.” he nodded and you sipped some more of your wine before turning to look at him, your heart beating out of your chest; while you felt a heartbeat elsewhere.

“the ring you have, is that for me?” there was pause and his eyes caught yours. and before he could open his mouth, you spoke once more.

“meg’s told me you had it. do you really wanna marry me? do you think—“ your nervous rambling was caught off by his lips. the scar on his upper lip rubbing smoothly against yours, making you moan out. and when he pulled away, you whimpered; yearning for more.

“gotta teach him to keep secrets. damn big mouth.” he teased megumi and you gave him a slight kick, giggling at him, before he pulled you onto his lap—your plush thighs melting against his waist.

“but, yeah. ‘m gonna marry you. make you mine and pump you full of my babies,” his last comment sent shivers up your spine and you could feel your panties moisten with arousal. the tension was overwhelming and you couldn’t take it anymore. you crawled off his lap and swiftly pulled his dark grey sweatpants down to his knees, making his fat cock spring to life; before you immediately wrapped your plump lips around his head.

toji sucked in some air and tangled his thick fingers in your hair, pulling it while you worked your way down his dick. his cock was coated with your salvia, dripping down from his angry red tip—to the top of his balls, before you scooped it up and rubbed it all over him.

he was in pure bliss. basking in the sheer pleasure you were giving him. his jaw clenching as you made a sloppy messy on him, trying to suppress the moans that wanted to slip; until you swirled against his frenulum & teased his tip, making him loudly groan out.

you released him with a ‘pop’ sound echoing, your small hands jerking him off while you maintained eye contact with him, “shhh don’t wanna wake them up. now do we?” the look on his face sent a jolt of electricity up your spine and to your aching cunt, causing a switch to flip inside of you.

he watched you quickly pull your panties down, your slick sticking to the fabric, webs of your arousal following; before you squatted down onto his lap once more. “need you inside. need you to cum deep inside of me.”

you whined when you pushed him in, walls immediately stretching out and wrapping around him. this is what he missed. this is why he kept coming back…..well, one of the reasons.

his hands met your hips and helped guide you up and down on his dick, tip pressing into your cervix every once and a while. it didn’t take long for the moans to flow out freely from your mouth as you continued to bounce, stuffing you. and soon, you became even more gushy, cunt squelching while cream started form around his base—sticking to your skin while you moved.

“fuck you’re so tight. missed this pussy,” his hands collide with your ass, the fat rippling from the impact. he gripped the globes of your ass, loving the soft fat, before resting his hands on one of your cheeks.

everything about this felt sooo good. the noises you created and the touches he was giving you, was sheer bliss and you could feel an orgasm approaching. toji could feel you clenching down on him repeatedly and he groaned at the sensation. with his free hand he pulled the sleeves to your beater down—pushing it down a little—before putting one of your plump mounds into his mouth.

the warm, wet feeling of his mouth made you throw your head back; still enduring the workout of bouncing on his fat cock.

he didn’t know how he was able to last this long inside of you, especially with how long it’s been since the last time and the unbelievable head you gave him. but, he was nearing his end too.

you could feel his hands move to your waist, before your back met the soft plushness of the couch and your legs were planted at his sides. now, his cock was nestled deep inside of your tummy, hitting your spot each time he thrusted.

toji reached underneath your thighs and pulled out your wet sticky underwear, putting it into your mouth to muffle the lewd noises that left your lips. your eyes was rolling back into your head as he fucked an orgasm out of you. well, that is until he pulled you by your hair; forcing you to watch him fuck everything out of you.

“look at the mess yer makin—shit! cum for me mamas”

oh the mess you made.

specks of white blurred your vision as you stomach caved in and a stream of clear fluid splashed out, drenching his black t-shirt and the cushions underneath. you had reached nirvana, but the pleasure didn’t stop there.

toji’s grip on your hair tightened while he pounded your cunt silly—splitting you open, pumping thick white ropes of his seed inside of you.

unable to formulate any words, he just smashed his lips onto yours; hands around your neck as the two of you shared the best orgasms of your lives.

this was it. this is exactly what you wanted. what he needed. why he kept coming back.

he sat back, catching his breath while you started to come back to reality, staring at you with pure love. “guess we gotta order a new crib. hm?”

[lush-lavenders]

❀Late Bloomer❀

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: You are late to enter society, but that doesn't mean you don't catch anyone's eye...

Request: Nope

Author’s Note: Sooo I'm really bad about disappearing. But recently I've been binging Bridgerton and been in the mood to write, so here we are!

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, just fluff here

Buy me a Ko-Fi

!I don’t own this gif!

Dearest Reader,

It has come to my attention that a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N), youngest daughter to Baron Arthur (Y/L/N), is making her debut, mid-season. Not only that, but she is almost one and twenty!

While this author cannot see the future, she can certainly predict it (and I do predict it well) - this season will be nothing if not eventful for Baron (Y/L/N) children.

—

As you stepped into the ballroom, the flutter in your stomach threatened to escape from your mouth. 

Lady Whistledown had come out this morning, and your mother was enthralled by the mere mention of your name. This made her fuss over you all day, needing to make your debut even more ‘perfect.’ 

You tried on three different dresses before the right one was picked out. You had five hairstyles tried out before your mother decided on the very first one. You had spent two hours out in search of the perfect matching earrings and necklace.

You were exhausted by the time you had to get ready, and severely tense as you arrived at Lady Danbury’s ball.

Cassandra, your sister-in-law, squeezed your arm softly. “Take a deep breath. This is just a party.”

You quickly took a breath, sighing it out. “That is easy for you to say. You married my brother in your first season after courting for a week.”

Cassie opened her mouth probably to give you more words of encouragement when your brother butted in. “We cannot stand here and talk all night. You need to present yourself to suitors.”

Before you could even think about protesting, Matthew walked ahead of you with Cassie on his arm, leaving you to trail behind.

—

“That there is Miss Buchan, she’s the only child of Earl Buchan.” The dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was discreetly pointing out young ladies to her two eldest sons, whose attentions would rather be anywhere else.

Benedict was scanning the room for someone he could use to politely excuse himself from his mother’s matchmaking. 

It would be an understatement to say he wasn’t interested in marrying yet. He had just recently started at Art School and wanted nothing more than to enjoy his work as a bachelor.

That’s when he spotted Lady Danbury. Normally he avoided the woman, as she could be as scheming as his mother, but she seemed like his only refuge.

“Excuse me, Mother, but I believe I should give my regards to Lady Danbury for the invite.” Benedict bowed to Violet before quickly heading off in the direction of the hostess. 

He thought about turning away last minute, evading all the prying eyes of those who might want to set him up, but something caught his attention - the once-alone lady of the house was now talking with a young lady. One he had yet to see in the sea of lovely debutantes. 

“Mr. Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury’s distinct voice cleared his mind as he approached. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She knew better than anyone that the Bridgerton boys tried to avoid her at these balls.

Benedict bowed, offering a smile. “Lady Danbury, I just wanted to compliment your wonderful party.”

Lady Danbury raised her, knowing that there was an ulterior motive. She glanced at where Violet Bridgerton was standing with her eldest, noticing her eyes were following her second child.

She flashed a scheming smile and turned her attention back to the young lady she was with. “Where are my manners? Miss (Y/N), this is Mr. Benedict Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton, may I present to you Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). This is her first ball, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should go talk to your mother.” 

She gave him a little pat on the shoulder, pushing him towards you as she went to Violet.

You lightly curtseyed as Benedict bowed his head to you. As you stood up straight, you froze, staring into the most beautiful blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the man’s features, stunned that someone such as him could be before you.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He took your gloved hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing the gentlest kiss one could muster.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you returned, not knowing what else to say. He had captured any words that might formulate within you.

His grasp lingered on your hand, longer than one might consider proper. It was good that the two of you were sequestered to the back of the ball.

At least you had thought you were hidden away.

A hand and sudden voice from behind told you how wrong you were.

“(Y/N), we have been looking for you. We turned around and you had disappeared.” Cassie let go of her husband to take your arm. “Who might you be talking to?” She asked, hiding the joy she felt for her best friend talking to a very eligible bachelor.

Benedict bowed to her and introduced himself before you could do it. “Benedict Bridgerton, at your service.” He joked lightly, and you bit your lip softly as you smiled.

“Bridgerton,” Matthew said as he bowed his head. “I’ve done quite a bit of business with your brother.”

If it wasn’t for Cassie being between you, you would have elbowed your brother right in the ribs for creating such a boring conversation.

Luckily, Cassie was thinking similarly enough to you. “Now now, my love. I’m sure Mr. Bridgerton does not need to hear about his own brother.”

Benedict chuckled, agreeing with her. “Yes, well, as well not needing to hear from him.” He joked, just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Well, Brother, maybe I shall take a look at your allowance?” Viscount Bridgerton came up out of the blue.

It seems as though each of your siblings was trying to prevent the two of you from speaking.

And they just kept coming.

Eloise Bridgerton arrived next, in an effort to escape from her mother. “Anthony, Benedict, you really must not leave me alone with Mama.” She sounded sort of breathless as if she had rushed here.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling parched. “Pardon me…” You muttered to no one in particular. Matthew and the Viscount seemed to be conversing about business, while Eloise tried to convince Benedict to return to their mother for her.

Cassie silently went along with you, still holding your arm.

You were silent as you made your way to the refreshments table, grabbing the first glass in front of you. You tried to appear as ladylike as possible while you practically gulped down the lemonade.

“I am so sorry for our interruption, (Y/N),” Cassie said after you had finished. “I did not realize you were speaking with a Bridgerton.” 

You shook your head, setting the glass down. “It’s alright. We didn’t really start to converse yet.” Not that you had the chance.

She picked up a glass herself and took a sip, her thoughts lingering. “You seemed… quite enamored with him.”

You scoffed, but not in a way to be rude. “Did you even look at him, Cassie? He’s…” You were at a loss for words as your gaze landed back on the Bridgerton in question. His eyes were wandering, ignoring both of your brothers. They wandered and wandered… until they eventually landed.

On you.

Your eyes met for the second time that night, but this time you quickly looked away, cheeks growing hot. 

That wasn’t before you noticed his perk up and began heading in your direction.

“Cassie, he’s coming over here. What do I do?” You ask in a panic. The only men you’ve ever really talked to were your father and brother, and neither counted towards this.

She put both hands on your shoulders, making you look at her. “Just be yourself.”

That’s the best advice you have, you thought to yourself.

You barely had the time to think up a response when Benedict made it to you, bowing his head again in greeting. “Mrs. and Miss (Y/L/N).”

You both courtesy, Cassie standing up before you. “I believe my husband needs me.” She says before snicking off, leaving you two alone.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you say after a moment, lifting your eyes to take a look at his features. Features that seem to be drilled into your mind from the beginning of the night. “Has my brother bored you so much you seek me out?” You joke in a self-deprecating manner, knowing you aren’t exactly worthy of his attention.

He smiled at your humor but shook his head. “Our brothers together are an apparent force to be reckoned with, but it is not them that brings me here. It’s you.”

Your breath caught in your chest at those last two words.

He actually wanted to be around you. There is nothing you could’ve hoped for more.

He looked around your surroundings before having you take his arm. “It gets so stuffy in here, does it not? Let us get some fresh air.”

“Just the two of us?” You asked with raised eyebrows. You had never been left, unchaperoned; yet the thought of it, with Benedict… it excited you.

He smiled a crooked but sweet smile. “Only if we leave now, while no one’s watching.”

You smile back, looking around as you follow him quickly into the hall before going out a backdoor into the gardens.

In the first few moments you observed him under the moonlight, your whole future played out. Everything centered around him.

[dissapointu]

hey! Thank you for sharing your writing process and advice, I'm sure it will help me improve?

Also, you mentioned in that post that "English isn't your strongest suit", and it made me curious to know what your native tongue is (if you're comfortable sharing that information) since I really couldn't tell English is not your first language!

As for the request: could you write a short drabble or headcanons (whichever you prefer) about Ekko with a s/o who's not used to receiving physical affection?

(omg this turned out too long i'm so sorry)

-🫧

Bubbles!!

Ah, Im not fond of sharing that much information, but I will def do your Drabble and headcanons for you!

————————————————————————

Drabble:

Ekko noticed the way you stiffened every time he leaned in for a quick side hug or brushed his fingers against yours when handing you something. You always tried to play it off, but he wasn’t dumb—he saw the way you glanced away, the little jolt in your shoulders, like you were half bracing for something bad to happen. It wasn’t rejection; you let him touch you, but it was obvious you weren’t used to it.

One evening, you sat together at the Firelights’ hideout, the glow of his hoverboard casting faint neon shadows across the walls. You were fiddling with something he couldn’t see, pretending to be way too focused on it. Ekko, lounging back against some cushions, gave you a soft smirk.

“You know,” he started, voice easy and teasing, “I’m not a mind reader, but I feel like hugs shouldn’t make you look like I just asked you to fight Sevika in the pits.”

Your head snapped up, wide-eyed. “What? I don’t—”

“You do,” he interrupted, sitting forward now, resting his elbows on his knees. “Not saying it’s bad or anything. Just… What’s up with that?”

You hesitated. You wanted to say something. Wanted to explain. But the words got tangled in your throat, knotted with embarrassment and a lifetime of just… not being held.

Ekko caught your pause and his grin softened. “Hey, it’s cool. No pressure.” He reached out, palm up, halfway between you. “But, like… if you ever want me to hold your hand or whatever? I’m here. No weirdness, no judgment.”

You stared at his hand for what felt like an eternity, heart thudding in your chest like the hoverboard’s engine. Finally, carefully, you set your hand in his, your fingers trembling slightly.

Ekko’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and steady, like he was anchoring you. “See?” he said quietly. “No explosions. You’re safe with me.”

And for the first time, you believed it.

Headcanons:

1. Ekko is observant as hell – He picks up on your body language way before you ever say anything about it. The stiff posture, the way you hesitate before returning a hug, the awkwardness when he casually ruffles your hair—it’s all logged in his brain.

2. Slow, steady affection is his strategy – Ekko doesn’t push you into big gestures. He starts small: a fist bump, a quick shoulder pat, maybe even offering you his jacket when it’s cold. He lets you get comfortable at your own pace.

3. Physical affection turns into a shared language – Once you start easing into it, Ekko makes physical affection feel natural and safe. He’ll rest his arm along the back of your chair when you’re sitting together or pull you into his side during Firelight meetings when you’re tired.

4. Words first, touch later – He’s great at offering verbal reassurance before anything physical. “You good with this?” “Can I hug you?” He makes sure you feel in control of the moment.

5. He loves the progress you make – That first time you initiate something? Like leaning into his side or grabbing his wrist to pull him closer? He melts. He tries to act chill about it, but his smile is so big it’s embarrassing.

6. Turns it into an inside joke – If you ever freeze up after he hugs you, he’ll jokingly hold his hands up like, “Alright, my bad, didn’t mean to spook you!” It’s lighthearted, but he’s serious about never crossing your boundaries.

7. Big on protective touch – Even if you’re still getting used to casual affection, Ekko’s hand instinctively finds the small of your back when you’re weaving through crowds or sitting close during tense situations. He’s subtly saying, I got you.

8. Once you’re comfortable, he’s touchy as hell – Once you give the green light, it’s over. He’s playfully tapping your nose, looping an arm around your shoulders, or tugging you into his lap like it’s second nature. He thrives on showing you how much he cares, and now he doesn’t have to hold back.

[ellieputellas]

can you write roommate!alexia smut

caught in the act | a. putellas x reader

— You catch your roommate Alexia touching herself to your photos.

tags: roommate!Alexia, barçaB!reader, smut, masturbation, mentions of fingering, mention of age gap, a bit of degradation and dirty talk, not proofread 🔞 wc: 2k+

Alexia hated having you as a roommate.

It wasn't because of the fact that you had a bad habit of putting off washing the dishes until the next morning; she learned to deal with it and wash them for you whenever it did bother her. It also wasn't because you were always watching Netflix past midnight, at full volume while she tried to get enough sleep for early morning training the next day, fully knowing the walls between your rooms were paper thin. She's learned to fall asleep to the sound of Brooklyn 99 or whatever American TV show you were addicted to at the time. It wasn’t even the fact that she’d have to set her alarm at least 30 minutes ahead of the usual time she’d wake up just so she could force you out of bed so you could both attend your respective training sessions on time.

Instead, she hated how oblivious and clueless you were to how she felt about you.

Just now, there you were in the living room watching a dumb show on Netflix as you simultaneously swiped on Bumble. She hated seeing you looking at other girls, or even getting all dolled up for dates with other girls.

She knew your type. You liked tall, fellow athletes with great style. She wondered why you never noticed her when she fit your type so well. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you fiddling with the dating app and just wanted to return to her room but you already noticed her presence.

"Hey, Alexia." You said calmly. “Come over here.”

She sighed. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about her?" You said as you chewed on the chips you were loudly snacking on. (That was another thing Alexia let you get away with — snacking everywhere and anywhere leading to a mild ant problem.)

Alexia sat beside you on the couch and leaned in to look at your phone. It was someone from Levante’s B team. Alexia frowned. She had to admit. This girl was undeniably hot with her tattoos and fit body but she knew she looked just as good as this player. If not that, she sure as hell was a better player. That should have been some merit to her.

"She’s okay..." It was all she could say to you. She didn’t want to come off as the jealous roommate.

"Really? I kinda think she's smoking hot." You said with a confused look. “She’s the hottest player I’ve played against on the pitch.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and wanted to make a snide comment but let it slide.

“She asked me out after we switched shirts after our match, and I smelled her shirt and it smelled good as fuck.” You shared, making Alexia roll her eyes again. “Plus, she’s taller than I am and you know how that’s my type… but our texts have been stale and boring as fuck.”

Alexia shrugged and tried to focus on the show you were shamelessly ignoring already. “Then just don’t go out with her.”

You sighed. “Yeah… but there is this rookie footballer I matched with on Bumble, she plays for…” You continued to tell Alexia about the other girls you were talking to but she just didn’t give a fuck.

She didn’t wanna know anything about the other girls you were seeing while she’s been into you for so long.

"Anyway, can you help me pick photos from my weekend trip with Emma? She's so great at taking photos that I feel like I have to make two separate posts on instagram just to include all of my hot photos." You said before giving your phone to Alexia. "Just swipe through them and heart all the photos you like."

As soon as she grabbed your phone, she felt her body heat up. The first photo of you was you in front of the pool with your arms up, laughing gleefully. You were wearing the tiniest bikini with a bra top just big enough to cover your nipples and that incredibly skimpy underwear.

All Alexia could think about was pushing them to the side and fucking you hard with her fingers.

Alexia blinked. "You're so...." She couldn't find the words. "Naked?"

You laughed at the older woman’s reaction. "That's all you could say?"

Alexia ignored you, completely fixated by the photos of you. Alexia liked the first photo and proceeded to swipe. The second photo was you with your back turned, exposing your ass. Alexia could feel her mouth salivate as the dirtiest thoughts entered her mind. She kept scrolling, admiring every curve and crevice of your body. She loved the way your boobs spilled over your bra and the way your thong rode up your ass and accentuated your perfect hips. She loved your collarbones but she loved the thought of marking them with her mouth more.

She was practically liking every photo, unable to think objectively of what works on Instagram or whatever. She loved seeing you this exposed.

"You never dress like this usually." Alexia commented, still going back and forth with your photos. She was pretending to be analytical with your photos but her mind was just filled with obscenities.

You huffed. “You only see me in a kit or here at home when I dress like a slob. You don’t know what I dress like.”

Alexia furrowed her eyebrows. “I’ve seen you get dressed up for dates. You’re not usually so…” She shook her head. “Whatever. I never would have imagined you’d like wearing something so tiny.”

Alexia had to swallow as her mouth had been watering at the sight of your photos. You chuckled, oblivious to your roommate's reaction. "Well, you would know that I actually do love tiny swimwear if only you went swimming with us more.”

Alexia took a mental note to say yes to every opportunity to see you in a skimpy bikini. "Still, you never post stuff like this. You only ever post game photos or food photos. This is just out of character for you.” She added on. "You must be posting to impress someone, huh?"

You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes at her. "I feel like I’m just more grown now. Like, grown enough to post more skin.” You explained. “Besides, can’t I post for myself?”

Wish you would post for me, Alexia thought.

You looked over at Alexia who was still looking through your photos. "God, what's taking you so long? Mesmerized by my tits?"

"You're so cocky." It was all Alexia could say as she blushed. She felt like it was so wrong to be thirsting over her younger roommate like this but she couldn’t help it. You were exactly what she wanted.

You chuckled. "I told you. Emma took really good photos of me! I know I look hot in those."

You looked through the photos Alexia liked and realized the only photos of you she didn't like were the ones where you were covered up. You stifled a chuckle. "Okay, I guess I should post these immediately since it would be so selfish of me to deprive the world of these photos any longer."

"So arrogant." Alexia scoffed under her breath but unbeknownst to you, it turned her on. She loved it when you got all confident. It made her want to praise you and degrade you at the same time. "I'm going back to my room to review some things for some brand deal. Text me if you wanna order food or cook for dinner later."

You absentmindedly nodded as you typed up the perfect Instagram caption and chose the perfect thirst-trap song to go with the Instagram post.

Alexia headed back in her room and immediately pulled out her iPad, refreshing her Instagram feed incessantly. "C'mon, c'mon..." She muttered under her breath. "Just post already."

Finally, your post popped up.

Alexia felt like she couldn't breathe as she was finally able to get a better look at them through the bigger screen. She was finally free to zoom in to your perfectly shaped tits without worrying you'd see. She bit her lip.

It was almost a built-in instinct or bodily response to her the way she immediately positioned herself in front of her iPad; she wasted no time. She propped the device on her bed, blasted a song loud enough to mask her noise, swiftly took off her bottoms, and eventually, guided her hands to feel her own slick with her fingers. She was soaked already just from seeing you.

"Fuck," She muttered as she began rubbing herself, looking at the photo of you on her device. She wished she could have a gigantic TV screen just so she could see more of you at a bigger scale. She wanted to be overwhelmed by the sight of you — to be consumed by your beauty.

She rubbed her clit in circles as she kept her eyes glued on the screen. She cursed again. She thought about your tits. She wondered how they'd feel in her hands. She wanted to feel the softness against her rough and imposing hands; she wanted to know if that kind of touch would make you whimper. She wondered what colors your nipples were and how they'd look and feel... and taste. She so badly wanted to push her tongue against them.

Her legs shivered as she imagined taking your breast in her mouth, sucking on it mercilessly as you moaned under her.

In reality, Alexia was alone in the darkness of her room — her tanned skin illuminated by the sole source of light from her device that blasted music to mask her grunts and the obscene sounds of her wetness.

But in her imagination, Alexia was in your room on top of you, sucking on your breasts as she positioned her knee against your core. In her imagination, you loved to beg and whine. So there you were, underneath her, squirming as she sucked on your nipple and used her hands to play with the other one. She just could tell you were the sensitive type and the idea of you almost teary-eyed due to sheer pleasure caused by her made her even wetter.

She opened her eyes once again to catch a glimpse of you in that one photo where you had a serious face as you slightly bent over. She groaned as she caught sight once again of the flesh of your boobs pressing against the fabric of your bikini. "Fucking whore." It escaped her mouth in a grunt.

In her imagination, you were dressed in the same skimpy bikini. She had your bra cups pushed to the side to grant her easy access to lick all over your boobs, leaving the occasional mark whenever she desired.

"Please, Alexia." She could practically hear your voice say it. "Fuck me now."

Alexia plunged her fingers into her cunt, causing her to grunt loudly as she pumped in and out of herself as mercilessly as she would have with you.

She was fixated on the thought of her fingers thrusting so hard in and out of you that your tits jiggled with every thrust. Alexia somehow felt you were the type to moan loudly, grab your own tits, and beg to fuck her deeper.

"Alexia! Fuck me!"

"You want me so bad, huh? You fucking slut?" She groaned under her breath, almost breathless and winded from how rough she was fucking herself. "I'll fuck you so hard, you'd go stupid."

"Alexia, harder! Please!" The imaginary voice in her brain told her. It felt so realistic

"Yeah?" She called out your name, almost in the form of an animalistic grunt. "You fucking want it harder? You a fucking slut for me?"

She increased the speed of her thrusting, causing her to moan loudly in succession. "Fuck," She said, followed by calling out your name. "Tell me who you belong to."

She pumped in and out of herself, causing her to convulse in the building pressure inside her. Her eyes were shut close but the photo of you in your bikini was permanently burned inside her mind.

"I belong to you!" Her imagination called out.

"Say my name then." She groaned.

"Alexia," It sounded so soft and gentle.

"Louder." She growled as she imagined that it was your pussy she was roughly thrusting into. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she felt herself approaching orgasm. “Say it.”

"Alexia?!" It was practically an exclamation. It felt so real that your voice echoed in her ears.

As Alexia opened her eyes, she was met by the sight of you standing at the door of her room with a shocked face. Almost immediately after, Alexia moaned out loud as her orgasm arrived.

It took half a second for her to realize that she wasn't imagining it anymore. You were there, standing and watching her fuck herself while her obnoxiously larged iPad displayed a photo of you.

"Oh shit." She was in trouble.

a/n: not proofread. part 2 anyone? (also thank u for ur requests!)

[waiting-for-motivation]

dark red

summary: No matter what, Max loves and supports his girlfriend like a golden retriever would love a black cat.

pairing: Max Verstappen x Goth!Reader

warnings: the sweetest and purest fluff

words: 1022

a/n: daniel will always be part of my formula one fics :) also big thank you to my lovely muse @graveyardcannibal <33

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

The thing Max enjoys the most is staring at his beautiful girlfriend. No matter the time of the day, the light always seems to hit her at just the right angle. She could wear a trash bag and still look gorgeous in his eyes. Max really fell head over heels for her.

So it does not surprise (Y/n) at all to see his reflection in the mirror in front of her. He watches her precisely draw her eyeliner. Concentrating on the black lines is hard, when his blue eyes notice even her smallest movement.

“Get a hobby, creep“, she comments with a sarcastic undertone, still looking over her shoulder with a smile on her lips. While Max is already dressed, she still has to finish her make-up and put on the outfit, her boyfriend helped her pick out. Sometimes (Y/n) feels bad for him, keeping him waiting for her, but then she remembers how much he likes to gaze at her.

Max can only laugh at her words, leaning forward to take a closer look at all the brushes, powders and pencils. Although he watches his girl use them on a regular basis he has no clue what they are specifically for. Though one he knows: her dark red lipstick, which she is reaching for right now.

“No, wait before you put that on“, Max almost screams, caught off guard by his own forwardness. With a confused expression, (Y/n) turns towards her boyfriend, the lipstick in her right hand. The moment she opens her mouth to ask what has gotten into him, Max presses his lips to hers. This is explanation enough.

“You smooth bastard!“, (Y/n) exclaims after they part, keeping the intense eye contact with Max. He shows her a cheeky smile, then nods towards the mirror, encouraging her to finish her make-up. The lipstick is the final part. Max watches in awe as (Y/n) places a napkin between her lips to matten the dark color.

Then she turns towards her outfit that lies on the neatly made bed, right next to her boyfriend. (Y/n) gets dressed, so focused she does not notice Max standing up and cleaning up her make-up tools.

“You don‘t have to do that“, she murmurs as she turns around and catches Max inspecting her brushes. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Max zips up her full cosmetic bag. He simply loves doing everything in his power for her, from smaller tasks to presenting her yet another corset.

"Need any help, schatje?", Max asks, setting the bag aside and reaching for his girl who is struggling to lace up her newest corset. With a huff, (Y/n) turns her back to him so that he can easily tighten the corset, careful not to strangulate her. After tying a bow, Max wraps his arms around his girl and starts kissing a trail from her ear to the collar of her shirt. One of her hands wanders to his fluffy golden hair.

"Don't start what you can't finish, Verstappen", (Y/n) warns her boyfriend, reminding him of today’s qualifying race and the job he has to do. At least, she will be with him on the paddock. For her, it will be the first time there, so she is rather excited and a bit anxious.

Together they leave their hotel room and drive to the racetrack. Again and again, Max throws a glance towards his girl on the passenger seat, actually so often that (Y/n) has to remind him to keep his eyes on the street. They quickly arrive and manage to get into the Red Bull garage without much attention from cameras or reporters.

"Remember you can always go into my driver room if it gets too much. I will find you as soon as possible afterward. Have some fun, schatje", Max tells (Y/n) with a concerned expression, even more nervous about her first day on the paddock than her. Her smile comfort his nerves, the sweet kiss following tells him she will be fine. Then he leaves to do some media stuff with his teammate.

Although the last few days, all (Y/n) could overthink about where the worst scenarios that could happen, the next few hours without Max are rather pleasant. Knowing a few of the drivers already because Max invited them to his home in Monaco, she has no problem in finding someone to talk to. Daniel is very delighted to see her, pulling her into a warm hug and forcing her to do a twirl for him, showing off her black outfit. She even meets some other girlfriends, which mostly compliment her on her make-up.

Before the qualifying race starts, someone from Red Bull escorts her back to the garage, claiming Max wants to see her before the start. There is a whole crowd of mechanics and strategists around him, so (Y/n) waits till he notices her, meanwhile touching up her lipstick.

Max is already sitting in his car, when he waves (Y/n) over with a bright smile. Someone presses his helmet into her hands which she gives to her boyfriend the moment she arrives at his car. He keeps it in his laps, gazing at the gorgeous girl above him. (Y/n) leans onto the car carefully, not wanting to cause a scratch or worse.

“There you are, schatje, wish me luck“, Max murmurs. His blue eyes glisten from not daring to blink. The giggle coming from (Y/n) causes his heart to flutter like a million butterflies. He smiles dreamily.

“Good luck, Maxie“, (Y/n) whispers as she presses a kiss to his cheek, aware of the cameras on them. Taking a step back and watching her boyfriend hide his handsome face under a balaclava and finally his helmet, she catches a glimpse of a red lipstick mark on his skin. She can only smile at this little incident.

Of course, the next day there are a lot of pictures circulating on the internet. Everyone can see the admiration in Max Verstappen‘s eyes as well as the red mark on his cheek, he wears like a medal of honor. He simply loves his girl with every fiber of his being.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

You want more than just his hands. You want a lot more than his hands. And when you’re at home, and should be sleeping, or at the very least on your knees in prayer, all you can think about is his mouth between your legs. His hands on your thighs, pulling your legs further apart to accommodate the width of his body. They way he’ll rise over you, and he’ll lay his cock over your mound. Begging you to look and see just how deep he’s going to be.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Slinging the covers off your legs, you down at your modest nightgown. This isn’t good enough for Ari. Not that it’s ever stopped him before, but you don’t want to be hidden with him. You don’t want to look different with him. You want him to stare at you with wide eyes because you do have skin showing. Others could see, but you are only concerned about where his eyes are. You wanted to feel pretty with Ari. Look in the way that he makes you feel.

This is such a valid feeling!

“Did you choose those filthy books on purpose?” Of course she did. Those books gave you so many ideas, confused your brain, and made you long for something you didn’t fully understand. And Ari curses himself for how feral that thought makes him. You had a filthy mind from words alone, and he gets to nurture that part of you. Nobody else.

Whoops 🤭

“She’s a sexually frustrated woman, living in a community that tells her sex is bad — yeah,” She smiles, nodding her head proudly. “That woman needed to read those books, and she needed to know that her sexuality is beautiful. Now, how has that helped you out?” “One of them has a reverse harem,” Her mouth turns into an o, and then she smiles sweetly, only a little bit sorry. “You can’t do that. She,” Ari didn’t want to betray any of your trust, even if he knew his sister wouldn’t judge you. “She knew nothing. Multiple men is going too far.”

Oh come on Ari, those are some good books 😉

“Okay, so I won’t send the one with a gun kink,” Ari knows that Hannah’s mouth is turning into a wide grin. He knows how she is, and how she enjoys making him squirm.

Hahah love her 😂

“You’ve told me far too much information. Certain things as your brother I should not know,” Hannah shrugs. Her sole reason for living is to annoy her brother, and making him uncomfortable.

Sibling core 😂

“I kinda employ her. But she arrives before the stupid heads that work outside do. It gives me a chance to,” he smiles seeing your figure coming up the driveway. “Gives me a chance to twirl her around and smile before I softly kiss her lips.”

That's so cute 🥹🥰

He’s never had to teach, and still learn. He’s never really looked at sex as anything but pleasure. Your pleasure is the most fascinating thing to see, and feel. Coupled with the sounds that you try to hide. His favorite is how reactionary your body is because you just want to feel. But your ultimate curiosity is his drug. He can’t get enough. He doubts he ever will. But he will forever try.

Urgh he is so dreamy

“I don’t feel Amish anymore though,” it’s not so much as changing for him as it is, realizing that for most it’s just a stupid little dress. For you it’s taking back your womanhood that nobody ever gave you. You may hate the dress on your body, but you’ve never been given the choice of that dress. so you don’t know if it’s any better or worse than anything else.

I love that she gets to make this choice and (re)claim their power

“Can I get waxed today?” His eyes blow wide as he stares at you. “We’re going to town, yes?” “We’re going out of town,” he didn’t want to risk you getting caught, and prematurely being shunned by everything you’ve ever know. “Then I want waxed.”

Bold choice 🫡 I would not choose getting waxed as like my first thing haha

“Ari?” He hums as he wraps the bra around your body, “I just thought I would let you know that I’m always wetter when I’m around you,” he stands up straight just to give you complete eye contact. “Do you want to feel?” he shakes his head no, but you see he desperately wants to say yes. “Can I feel you?”

I love that she just says these things out loud🤭

“I’m trying,” he presses the softest kiss to your heated skin, and your back bows, arching into him, and his free arm goes around you to hold you up. He pushes your body more into his. “Ari,” your voice is almost a sob, and he moves his hand, rolling his body into yours. His bulge adding the slightest friction and pressure to your needy cunt. The absence of sex, making this so much more appealing to him. It’s the discovery of the action.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“I’m not really taking my clothes off. Just,” you exhale slowly. You’re going to be stepping out with the English, without looking like you’re Amish. It slowly sinks in. You start with the bonnet, and Ari looks towards you, gawking. You choose to ignore him, while you adjust to feeling a bit more exposed. You’ve never removed the bonnet since being with him. It feels foreign, and yet, right, “The road is in front of you.” Ari stops the truck abruptly, putting it in park. He sits back a bit more comfortably, and turns to look at you. “Ari, drive,” you don’t mean it. You want him to look. “I’m just looking,” his eyes go up and down your body, and you peer at him through your lashes. “C’mere,” he curls his finger, beckoning you to him, but also, you into him. Upon seeing him, he looks like the most tender predator. Wanting to relax his prey before he devours you, “I’m going to kiss you.”

Don't kiss and drive ☝🏻🤭

There’s so much to see. So much to taste. So much to hear. You’re just overwhelmed with everything that is going on. Smiling at Ari freely as you walk through the mall. Letting him hold onto your hip, or hand. Whatever he wants. You like that he’s an overly touchy, and affectionate person, and how alert he is of everyone around you. You didn’t even care if he asserted his dominance and claim on you.

They are both so proud of being together out and about 🥰

“You don’t have to change anything, you know that, right?” “I want to get some razors,” you respond with finality. Nobody is asking or telling. It’s what you want to do. The freedom to make decisions for yourself. The freedom to make the choice on what you want to do. And you want to shave your legs. At least once. Maybe try makeup. Maybe try writing your own stories. Or watching a movie. “I just want to try everything.”

Yes 👏🏻

“Only for you,” if you could pout, you would. All you know is you need relief. And your answers are fuel to Ari’s restlessness to just take you. He would spend on night on his knees worshiping at your altar if that’s what you wanted. He would pray for you, bless you, you are his religion at this point.

🤭🤭🤭

Your body stiffens as it heats up, “You look so pretty when you’re about to lose control. The pressure and pleasure keeps building. Climbing,” your body is on autopilot as sounds and words wail out of your mouth that you have never heard. “Not stopping up,” something in your body snaps as a raging euphoria courses through your veins like blood, “Until you jump off that peak. What a good girl,” he praises you for reaching the finish line.

His descriptions is so 😮‍💨🥵🤤

How I'm Looking At You, Part 6

Summary: you go on a date

Pairings: Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, anticipation, fingering, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.8K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

You can’t stop smiling. Smiling doesn’t even cover it. You’re always beaming from ear to ear. You can barely close your eyes without seeing Ari’s face. Feeling him all over your body. Obviously the sexy parts of your relationship are invigorating. But even without that, you still see his face, and hear his voice. His kindness, and his never judging you. Eventually in your daydreams you feel his hands all over you.

You want more than just his hands. You want a lot more than his hands. And when you’re at home, and should be sleeping, or at the very least on your knees in prayer, all you can think about is his mouth between your legs. His hands on your thighs, pulling your legs further apart to accommodate the width of his body. They way he’ll rise over you, and he’ll lay his cock over your mound. Begging you to look and see just how deep he’s going to be.

You don’t have to look, you can feel the weight of his heavy girth, and just know how deep he’s going to be. But you’re a curious kitten, and you have to look, and you chirp. Whimpering, and pawing at him because you don’t think you can take it all. And so softly, but with that deep timbre, he assures you, “We’ll make it fit.”

Everything is about the both of you. You sigh in frustration, pulling your hands out of your panties as you stare up at the ceiling. Nothing quite feels like Ari. Your fingers aren’t quite the same as his. And part of the appeal of having him with you is his breath, and his voice. But also, the weight of him. You haven’t had too much of him on you. Even just him leaning over you on the counter felt heavenly.

You’re glad Ari stopped things yesterday. Once you got away from him, and could breathe on your walk home, it felt right for him not to have had sex with you. Sex. Fuck. Rail. Rut. So many colorful words for just him coming into you. You wanted it. Wanted all of it. Wanted to explore all the things that the books talked about. And you also want to just listen to Ari about ’out there’.

The real world, outside of the community. It’s what you want. But every time you go out in public, you get gawked at because of the dress, and the bonnet. If you want to have a normal date with him, you can’t look like you.

Slinging the covers off your legs, you down at your modest nightgown. This isn’t good enough for Ari. Not that it’s ever stopped him before, but you don’t want to be hidden with him. You don’t want to look different with him. You want him to stare at you with wide eyes because you do have skin showing. Others could see, but you are only concerned about where his eyes are.

You wanted to feel pretty with Ari. Look in the way that he makes you feel. He makes you feel all swarmmy and warm in your belly. This bubbly feeling is always in your gut, and then a deep need in your core. A rapid flutter of your nether region whenever you see him. You want him. And you enjoy him when he’s not making your brain fuzzy. He’s also taken up for you which is more than you could say about the so called men in your community.

It’s easy, while you’re laying in bed to think you’re going to just ride off into the sunset with Ari. But then you hear the snore of your father, and know that you could never come back and truly be welcomed again. If they even knew what you were doing you’d be shunned, and labeled a harlot. You were no good for marriage.

To Amish man. You weren’t the most desired to Amish men, and if they knew what you and Ari are doing, you would be useless. But you’ve never been useless to Ari. So that settles that. Ari was going to have all of you. For as long as he would have you. You sigh. If Ari grew tired of you, and you couldn’t come back to the community, would you be okay? You’re more educated than most of the women here. Definitely more read — but you didn’t want to tell them that.

Before you fully decide you’re ready to leave with Ari, you need to know more. You want to feel more. You desire all of him. But his heart is what you really want.

Ari pulls away from the window, scowling as he talks to his sister, “When is she getting there? And is it dark outside? You should drive her there, instead of her walking. And how are those books working out for you?” She giggles on the line, while Ari growls in frustration. “What?”

“Did you choose those filthy books on purpose?” Of course she did. Those books gave you so many ideas, confused your brain, and made you long for something you didn’t fully understand. And Ari curses himself for how feral that thought makes him. You had a filthy mind from words alone, and he gets to nurture that part of you. Nobody else.

“She’s a sexually frustrated woman, living in a community that tells her sex is bad — yeah,” She smiles, nodding her head proudly. “That woman needed to read those books, and she needed to know that her sexuality is beautiful. Now, how has that helped you out?”

“You’re very strange,” Ari starts, narrowing his eyes as he stares out the window. His sister is too small with too big of a personality. But Hannah meant well, even if she was too personal. “What I can say is she reads all this, and has all these thoughts running through her head, and she’s just swimming in a sexual awakening. You didn’t have to go so hard on her.”

“Like which book?” She wiggles her eyebrows again, but she knows her brother has too many lines drawn when it comes to his sex life. For her, it even wasn’t about his sex life as much as realizing her brother is falling in love. He’s been given the time to fall because you haven’t jumped into sex too quickly.

“One of them has a reverse harem,” Her mouth turns into an o, and then she smiles sweetly, only a little bit sorry. “You can’t do that. She,” Ari didn’t want to betray any of your trust, even if he knew his sister wouldn’t judge you. “She knew nothing. Multiple men is going too far.”

“Okay, so I won’t send the one with a gun kink,” Ari knows that Hannah’s mouth is turning into a wide grin. He knows how she is, and how she enjoys making him squirm.

“Have you read this?” He doesn’t know why he asked. He just blurted it out, and now that it’s out there, he can’t take it back.

“Yes, It’s quite nice.”

“You’ve told me far too much information. Certain things as your brother I should not know,” Hannah shrugs. Her sole reason for living is to annoy her brother, and making him uncomfortable.

“Is she there yet? You know her schedule?” Ari nods his head even though his sister can’t see him. He knew everything. Except what you thought about when you are alone.

“I kinda employ her. But she arrives before the stupid heads that work outside do. It gives me a chance to,” he smiles seeing your figure coming up the driveway. “Gives me a chance to twirl her around and smile before I softly kiss her lips.”

Hannah sits quietly for a moment. Smiling at knowing just how happy her brother is. “Did you get my package?”

“It wasn’t addressed to me,” he responds flatly. He’s ready to let her go so he can give you the undivided attention you deserve.

“Your girlfriend really wouldn’t like me sending that to her house,” Ari’s eyes go wide, gasping, “It’s not lingerie. Most people would just consider it a dress,” Ari moans as he imagines you in a summer dress. He didn’t even care what color, or what it was supposed to be called, but the idea of seeing so much of your skin on display for him, and having people around that could see, but could not touch.

“You are a horn dog. But yeah, the package is plenty of clothes for her.”

“Hannah, you’re very weird sometimes, but I appreciate you. Now, I’ve got to go,” she mumbles something in the background about Ari being a simp, and maybe he is. Maybe, just maybe, he found someone worth all of it. Worth going against everything he thought was who he is.

And When you walk through the door, he knows he’s been lying to himself this entire time. But only because it was never you. There was never a woman whose eyes shined up at him the way yours do. Never was there someone that had a smile that literally radiated throughout your body. And he has never picked someone up and twirled them around, and he does with you every single day. Never has had a woman fold herself into him, and giggle against his skin. It’s the simple things. It’s you.

He’s never had to teach, and still learn. He’s never really looked at sex as anything but pleasure. Your pleasure is the most fascinating thing to see, and feel. Coupled with the sounds that you try to hide. His favorite is how reactionary your body is because you just want to feel. But your ultimate curiosity is his drug. He can’t get enough. He doubts he ever will. But he will forever try.

“Good morning to you, too,” your laughter sings up at him. “So what are we doing today?”

“You’re not going to be working in the kitchen all day,” you cock an eyebrow up to look at him, and he bashfully looks away. You’re not quite sure why it’s so cute, but also empowering knowing that you make Ari feel fuzzy. “Oh, my sister, she sent you a package. I might know what is in there, and I just want you to know you don’t have to feel pressured.”

“Did she get me a butt plug?” Ari looks away again, shaking his head with a smile, “I was wondering how close you English people can get with your siblings. Can I?” You’d noticed the giant box on his couch, but chose to ignore it. As soon as Ari nods his head, you spring into action, rushing over to the box. You’re sure whatever you’re doing is a sin, but pure excitement and joy just make sense. Someone has sent you a gift, and you’re just showing your appreciation.

The more time you spend with Ari the more you realize that the out of touch nature of your community is way overrated. You’ve never felt so much at ease as you do with him. Free to be who you want to be. He allows you to explore things you may like. Your father isn’t a tyrant like some of the men here, but he had his flaws. Sure Ari does, too. You’re sure you’ll see them eventually. But Ari seems to have your best interest.

Opening up the box, you squeal. Taking a look back at him before lifting it in your arms. “They’re going to be on the east field?” The furthest field away from the house. You’d wondered how you were going to get clothes, especially to surprise Ari, but his sister took care of that for you. He gives you a nod, and you start towards the stairs. “Can we do something today?”

“What did you have in mind, Darling?”

“A date?” He grins, and nods his head. Laughing when you squeal again. “I’ll put this under my dress. I can take it off when we get away from here?”

“I’ll make breakfast,” you squeal again. Your feet tapping in excitement before heading towards your room. He was going to be out with you in public. Laying the box on the bed, you rifle through each piece. Running your fingers over the different fabrics, and colors. Marveling at how well they look against your skin. Ari is going to get to see you without a bonnet. He’s going to see your legs, and arms, and cleavage.

He was going to see you as his equal. Nobody is going to gawk at you, point their finger, and make you feel like a science experiment. You’re going to be normal out there. You’ve always been different, and it’s honestly time to admit that you didn’t belong here. Even without Ari. You haven’t been happy for a long time. You’ve been starving for an escape, and release.

Your fingers stop on a green frock. It feels right. It will cover a bit, so you won’t have to feel too uncomfortable for your first time in English clothes. You’ve read enough books to know the thin straps will make for an easy pull down. Not that you’re expecting anything. And Ari wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with. But it could be an option.

You inhale sharply, and let it release slowly. Starting to undo your dress before you lose your cool. Glancing into the mirror, you shriek. “Ari!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean — I didn’t want to startle you. Breakfast is finished cooking,” you bite at your lip, and nod your head. Looking at your reflection before submissively looking towards the floor, “You don’t have to change who you are for me.”

“I don’t feel Amish anymore though,” it’s not so much as changing for him as it is, realizing that for most it’s just a stupid little dress. For you it’s taking back your womanhood that nobody ever gave you. You may hate the dress on your body, but you’ve never been given the choice of that dress. so you don’t know if it’s any better or worse than anything else.

“Can I help?” He peers at you through his lashes, no bit of that predatory bear can be seen on him. It’s almost childlike, his question. Nodding your head, you spin around to face away from him. His fingers slide down the expanse of your spine. Leaving a trail of goose pimples in their wake, and making breathing more difficult.

It’s too quiet in this tiny room, and you’re sure that neither of you are in taking oxygen. He unfastens the safety pin, and lays it on the dresser. Pulling apart your dress, he watches the heavy fabric fall to the ground, and he finally exhales on your bare skin. The warmth of his breath heating up more than your skin. Peeking behind you, he’s in such deep concentration. Struggling to keep his hands by his side as he stares at you in just panties.

“I have to,” you gulp, wrapping your arms around your bare chest. “I need to put on the other — the other - other panties. Will you choose a set?”

He clears his throat, nodding rapidly as he turns to walk to your drawers. Before you had water to separate you and Ari. Now you have nothing. A bed mere feet away, and you feel so vulnerable in this amount of undress. “What about white ones?” You whisper, ‘yes’, and give him a smile as he holds them out to you, but you shake your head no. “What is it?”

“Can you put them on me?” You’re a little minx that has his cock throbbing, and swelling in his jeans. Instead of responding he sinks to his knees, and you spin around to face him, and Ari reaches up. Hooking his fingers around the panties that you’ve made, he pulls them down. Stopping when you're uncovered.

Ari presses a chaste kiss to your mound before his tongue darts out of his mouth. He runs the muscle through your split, and you whimper. Gripping onto his hair, you attempt to hold him there, but he pulls back, “Breakfast is getting cold,” smirking, he pulls those panties fully down, tapping on each foot for you to lift it out of the undergarment before he tosses them aside. “Let me see.”

His eyes roam up your naked body, stopping on your face as you drop your arms. Standing completely nude before him, and he’s fully dressed. The complete vulnerability and embarrassment adding to how utterly sexy this is. His cock may be pressing up against his jeans and ready to bury himself in you, but he's still in control. His eyes follow down every curve of your body before he holds open the panties. And you step into them.

His fingertips feel like a paintbrush moving up your skin, and once he covers your pussy back up, he presses the softest kiss against your covered flesh. “Ari?”

“Yes, Darling,” he keeps his face pressed up against your core, breathing your scent in deeply.

“Do you think I should shave?”

“I truly do not care,” that didn’t help.

“Would you show me?”

“How to shave your pussy?” You nod your head, among other things. You wouldn’t mind if he just helped you shave everything. He grunts as he stands, “Is that what you want to do?”

“I’d like to try it. Maybe I should wax it?”

“As long as you know, I don’t care. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

“Can I get waxed today?” His eyes blow wide as he stares at you. “We’re going to town, yes?”

“We’re going out of town,” he didn’t want to risk you getting caught, and prematurely being shunned by everything you’ve ever know.

“Then I want waxed.”

“Okay,” giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Let's finish getting you dressed. And we’ll go eat.”

“Ari?” He hums as he wraps the bra around your body, “I just thought I would let you know that I’m always wetter when I’m around you,” he stands up straight just to give you complete eye contact. “Do you want to feel?” he shakes his head no, but you see he desperately wants to say yes. “Can I feel you?”

“Darling, you’re killing me here. But go ahead. Touch me, and see just how your teasing ass has got me all riled up this early in the morning,” your eyes roll up to meet him. You’re constantly reminded of just how giant he is compared to you. How much he towers over you, and that thought alone makes you want to melt into him and let him hold you all day. “Go on,” he pleads.

Your hand lifts, and barely grazes over his bulge, causing his eyes to flutter. A haggard breath pushes out his lips, and you let your hand consume him. Laying your hand over the tight to the angry cock of Ari. You gulp at his size. The warmth. The pulsing. He is so heavy. Whimpering, you try to grip him through his jeans. Smiling when his mouth drops open. “You look pretty like that,” Ari opens his eyes to smirk at you.

“I don’t know if you can fit inside of me.”

“It’ll be difficult,” he whispers before cupping your pussy quickly, and you struggle to breathe, “Shh,” he steps closer to you, using his nose to pet over your neck. You lean, giving him easier access, “Breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he presses the softest kiss to your heated skin, and your back bows, arching into him, and his free arm goes around you to hold you up. He pushes your body more into his. “Ari,” your voice is almost a sob, and he moves his hand, rolling his body into yours. His bulge adding the slightest friction and pressure to your needy cunt. The absence of sex, making this so much more appealing to him. It’s the discovery of the action.

“I’ll make it fit if I have to,” his voice is broken, and you pout up at him. Even just his breath on you is such a taunt of something you desire, and don’t understand. “Darling, you should get dressed, so we can eat, and go out for a long long day.”

“Okay,” he steps away from you too soon causing you to sway back and he chuckles. “Don’t be cruel.”

“I don’t think I’m the one being cruel. You’re standing there with nothing but a bra and panties. I know you’re soaked, heated, and throbbing. And you just hand your hand rubbing on my cock. Who is cruel now?” He stands there smiling at you as you reach for the dress you intend on wearing.

“I want this to be a surprise,” he bows, and leaves you alone to get dressed again. Wondering exactly what you’re going to look like. What you’re going to feel like. He is desperate for you, and also getting turned on more by the waiting. It’s an exploration of who you are, and what your body can do. It’s everything. And so much more than sex. It’s primal. It’s — love.

“Should you be watching the road?” He looks quickly back to the road, but his eyes switch towards you again. He is struggling to keep looking at the road when you’re in the process of shedding your Amish dress. It’s unfair that he can’t watch, “Ari!”

“What?”

“I’m not really taking my clothes off. Just,” you exhale slowly. You’re going to be stepping out with the English, without looking like you’re Amish. It slowly sinks in. You start with the bonnet, and Ari looks towards you, gawking. You choose to ignore him, while you adjust to feeling a bit more exposed. You’ve never removed the bonnet since being with him. It feels foreign, and yet, right, “The road is in front of you.”

Ari stops the truck abruptly, putting it in park. He sits back a bit more comfortably, and turns to look at you. “Ari, drive,” you don’t mean it. You want him to look.

“You’re distracting me by looking so beautiful,” your cheeks flare with heat, and you bashfully look away. Being able to feel his heated gaze on your back. The tension and heat is palatable in this small cab. “Are you going to take the dress off?”

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Turning your back to Ari, you peek over your shoulder, “Can you help again?” He responds by reaching up to the safety pin. Undoing it slowly before he slides his hands under the dress at the neck. Grazing over your skin as he removes the potato sack from your shoulders. His throat is so loud, gulping and trying to show some restraint with how much of your skin is showing.

Lifting up, you pull the ugly thing off you. Twisting straight in your seat, you stare out the windshield, struggling to look at him. “Should we not be driving?”

“I’m just looking,” his eyes go up and down your body, and you peer at him through your lashes. “C’mere,” he curls his finger, beckoning you to him, but also, you into him. Upon seeing him, he looks like the most tender predator. Wanting to relax his prey before he devours you, “I’m going to kiss you.”

“Okay,” and his lips slot against yours with no warning. Taking the last breath out of your body. It’s so soft and sensual, and you want more. You maneuver yourself onto your knees, inching your body closer to him. Closer. And then his hand pulls you harder, wanting you to be on top of his faster. He guides you to straddle his lap, and his hands settle on your hips, coaxing you to gyrate on him, and you take more. Rapidly rolling your hips, and moaning at the feeling.

Ari’s tongue tickles on your lip, and you open up. Granting him access, while your lungs scream for air that you don’t want to give them. You don’t want to waste any time apart from him. If you pass out from the lack of oxygen, it will be worth it.

“Get out of the fucking road!” The car behind you blares on their horn, and you jump away from him. Not embarrassed as much as you’re giggling. Your body is on fire. Slicked up, and humming from him, “Move!”

“I told you that you shouldn’t stop in the road,” Ari rolls his eyes as he puts the truck into gear. Letting it roll slowly down the gravel. “Do you think they know?” The last thing you want is to barely get out of the community, and someone see you grinding on Ari while making out with him.

“Nobody is ever going to know. And nobody should even care.”

There’s so much to see. So much to taste. So much to hear. You’re just overwhelmed with everything that is going on. Smiling at Ari freely as you walk through the mall. Letting him hold onto your hip, or hand. Whatever he wants. You like that he’s an overly touchy, and affectionate person, and how alert he is of everyone around you. You didn’t even care if he asserted his dominance and claim on you.

You watch every woman here. Seeing the way that they walk, and talk. How they react with their significant other, but there is one thing that bothered you all day, apart from the awkward and exhilarating waxing. It had been a wonderful day with Ari smiling and laughing with you. Even getting to try on some more dresses for him. And still one thing remained.

“Do you have a bathtub in your house?” Ari’s brows lift up. His smile crooks to the side, and he nods his head.

“I also have running water in my house, but we don’t have to tell anyone that. Why are you asking, Darling?”

“I’ve never shaved,” he nods. When silence surrounds Ari, it’s a lack of not knowing what to say, or how to approach you. “Do you have razors at your house?” he shakes his head no. “We should get some razors. And the creamy stuff.”

“You don’t have to change anything, you know that, right?”

“I want to get some razors,” you respond with finality. Nobody is asking or telling. It’s what you want to do. The freedom to make decisions for yourself. The freedom to make the choice on what you want to do. And you want to shave your legs. At least once. Maybe try makeup. Maybe try writing your own stories. Or watching a movie. “I just want to try everything.”

Ari is his usual self. Smiling and nodding his head.

This could cut you. It’s supposed to rid your skin of hair. A little bit of hair. Not too much because it’s only scratching the surface. But how does one hold their leg? How are you supposed to do anything when the water feels this nice? And you didn't have to boil it, you just got in and it’s fascinating.

“Ari?”

“Yes?” His voice is way too close. He’s just on the other side of the door, and you’re in here with bubbles and a razor. The door is now his enemy, but it’s separating him from you, “Darling?”

“Can I cut myself with this?” He’d never forgive himself if you cut your leg.

“Yeah. Do,” you hear a slight tap on the door, due to his head pushing on it. “I mean would you — um like, what I mean to say is…”

“Can you help me?” The door opens immediately, and you thank the bubbles for covering you up. Between his look of shock, and his roaming eyes, you feel beyond exposed. And you like it, “That was quick.”

“I was leaning my head against the door. I’ve been a bit concerned,” he doesn’t look concerned. He looks horny. His pants tenting again as you lift your leg. “I’ve been very very concerned with your well being, and not knowing what to do, or how to help.”

This is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. Bubbles cover your curves, while leaving just the right amount of skin exposed. And your leg propped up on the edge of the tub has him ready to blow a load just looking at you. He’s been on edge all day. First it was just removing the shell of a life you are ready to leave behind, and now it’s you looking like a siren, and guiding him to his death.

But today, it was the way that dress swished around as you walked. Or when you would bend over, and it would hike up your body. He slyly stood behind you so you could browse the shelves. Nobody else was going to look at you, but he did look cheekily. Imagined himself rucking the dress up to the swell of your ass. Maybe even press his hard length into your warmth. You made today difficult, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And then, your little minx self had to have a hot dog. Had to. You insisted. Did you understand how suggestive that was, and it shouldn’t have been? He was ready to push you to your knees, and make you swallow every inch of his cock just so he could see tears in your eyes.

He’s currently exhausted because his thoughts range from purely just watching you discover your likes and dislikes, to the depraved thoughts of him sinking into your wet heat for the first time. The tears, the stretch, the inevitable blood, and the way that you’ll look up at him in confusion and love. Feeling beyond full with his girth, but hopefully you feel the — the something from him.

He can’t wait until he gets to kiss all over your body. Spreading so much passion over your skin. Making you soft and pliable. Spending so much time getting you worked up and relaxed that you open up easier. The taste of your skin is going to be heavenly.

“Ari, just breathe,” you giggle, biting on your lip like the cutest devil he’s ever seen. Dipping his hand into the water, he gives you a little splash. His own laughter erupts in the bathroom. “Isn’t that what you tell me?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to be using my words of wisdom against me,” you have truly rendered him speechless, and he wants to do this with you every single day for the rest of his life.

“Does it bother you that I’m in this bathtub naked?” He shakes his head. There is nothing about this moment that is bothering him. Making his resolve a bit harder, yes. Making his body uncomfortable with the wait, of course. And he’ll continue to wait.

He looks at you through his lashes before he holds up a hand, “Gimme your hand,” you do as you're told, and he presses your soaked bubbly hand on his crotch, “Do you think it bothers me?”

“I think you should get in the tub with me,” his eyes slowly close, and he takes three calculated breaths. “Nothing has to happen. But wouldn’t it be easier for you to sit behind me and show me how to shave,” Ari breathes a few beats before he’s lifting the bottom hem of his shirt. Stepping himself, while you hungrily watch.

Standing up he undoes his jeans, and rips them down. You don’t cower away. You stay staring at his body in awe. Your eyes follow the lines of his chest, all the way down to his cock that is at full mast. “You’re not going to touch me just yet. Scoot up.”

You lean forward, and let him settle behind you before you melt into his chest, “This is nice,” he’s so soft as his hands explore your curves. Ari ghosts his lips over your temple. His ministrations are so slow and calculated. His nose nuzzles into your neck as his kisses up the sensitive column, “I’ve never taken this much time on a woman.”

“How many were there?”

“None matter now,” you try to remain calm. Try to not let it bother you. Would knowing make it any better? Men like Ari didn’t come around often. And sure you have his attention now, but how long would it last?

Lifting up his left hand out of the water, you play with each of his fingers. Using your own to outline the digits, to see how much bigger his hand is than yours. “Ari, I don’t know if I want multiple partners.”

“I just want you.”

You aren’t sure if he understands. You want him, and still need to protect your heart. “No, I mean — I don’t want to sleep around. I don’t think that I would want to,” you sigh. Just let it out, “I want sex to mean something. I want it, but I’m glad you didn’t give it to me the other day. I want just one person.”

“I can live with that,” twisting your neck, you move your vision over his face, “I told you, I’m not in a rush. I’m enjoying this more innocent part of our relationship,” there is nothing innocent about this. It’s raw, and heated, and vulnerable. “And there’s so many ways to get off without sex. There’s so many things for us to talk about. And I believe I said I’d shave your legs. Put your leg on the ledge.”

His cock is throbbing on your back, and your heart and pussy are beating against each other. The low slow vibrations are a stark difference to the rapid pace of your heart. Confliction doesn’t even begin to explain the battle between your brain, heart, and aching core. The way he spreads the creamy shaving gel on you is like a drug.

You yearn for him in ways you have never yearned for anything. Your brain is so fuzzy, and your body wants, no, needs friction. It starts grinding on him of its own accord, and his growl on your ear does nothing to dispel the feeling. It desires even more. “Let me shave you first, and then I’ll relieve you.”

Whining, you struggle to hold still. Letting Ari pull the razor so carefully up your leg before he cleanses it in the water, and you’re back to wiggling, and moving. It’s becoming too much for you to focus, “Ari, I can’t,” you sound like a whining child, but you can’t help it. It hurts, you want some relief so bad. You are quivering with so much need. So much desire to have him, even if you also want to wait.

Ari doesn’t answer with words, he lets your leg fall into the water, rinsing it clean before he places each leg on either side of the clawfoot tub. the calloused tips of his fingers ribbon down your body before falling between your legs. Instead of going directly where you need him, he teases the apex of your thighs. Blowing heated air on you when you whimper out his name.

“You’re so fucking needy.”

“Only for you,” if you could pout, you would. All you know is you need relief. And your answers are fuel to Ari’s restlessness to just take you. He would spend on night on his knees worshiping at your altar if that’s what you wanted. He would pray for you, bless you, you are his religion at this point.

You take a sharp breath in as both hands move to your quivering cunt, and your body lifts up at the lightning that radiates from his fingertips. The intimacy of having him so close to you, and the only barrier is the water. It’s like you and Ari are finally fusing. You can think about the brain and heart parts later. Right now it’s just Ari.

“How is that?” He asks, pulling you apart, exposing your swollen clit, and he slowly rubs over it. “You like it?”

“Uh huh,” you liked it too much. Even if he’s going a bit too slow and gentle, he’s giving you where you need attention. Fulfilling too many desires, and not enough.

“You’re in a tub of water, and I can still tell just how slick you are. You’re so frustrated you can’t think, hmm?” You nod your head, and his movement is so swift you don’t even realize his finger circles your entrance, “It’s not enough, is it?” Judging by your actions, it’s not nearly enough, you’re body is screaming for his cock, but your mind is begging to go slower. He won’t be fucking you today.

“No. It’s not enough. Mmm!” His finger plunges into your warmth, and your body lights up. Your brain is blacked out, and your body is high as a kite. His palm flattens on your sensitive nub, while he moves himself in and out of you. “More!”

Adding another finger, you sob his name. Your body starts to follow his lead, pulling him in deeper. Faster. Harder. It could be crazy, but you want the burn, and stretch of feeling full with him. That added finger makes you feel so full of Ari, “More. Ahh!”

Ari adds a third finger with difficulty, and holds himself still. Kissing over your shoulders, and up to your neck while you fuck his fingers. Bucking over him just like nature wanted you to, “There you go. There’s my good girl. Taking three of my fingers just like a sweet little whore. And look at how needy your greedy little cunt is. Stretched so much for me,” you grind down harder. Desperately trying to race to the finish line, and never wanting it to stop.

It’s exhilarating that you get to make yourself feel like this. That Ari is giving you the ability to act on your desires. Your breasts bounce over the water, bubbles slosh over the side of the tub, and you just move faster. Envisioning what it will feel like to fuck him. What he will look like when your pussy is wrapped around his cock. Sleeving him in your velvety walls.

You get so close. Too close, and it overwhelms you. Panting, you stop. It’s enough. “Oh no, you don’t,” his fingers stab into with so much speed that your toes curl. Eyes rolling in the back of your head as you launch your body upwards. “You were so close. That wasn’t an orgasm. You keep going. Pushing yourself. Not stopping until you’re blind with pleasure, and forget how to breathe.”

Your body stiffens as it heats up, “You look so pretty when you’re about to lose control. The pressure and pleasure keeps building. Climbing,” your body is on autopilot as sounds and words wail out of your mouth that you have never heard. “Not stopping up,” something in your body snaps as a raging euphoria courses through your veins like blood, “Until you jump off that peak. What a good girl,” he praises you for reaching the finish line.

He still fucks himself into you, but the movements are slower. Softer. He coaxes your body down from its high. Waiting for your vision to clear back up. Ari peppers kisses all over your shoulders before you start to relax. “What does an orgasm feel like for you?”

“I’ve never had an orgasm inside of you, so I don’t think I’ve reached my pentacle yet. It’s explosive, just as yours. It’s otherworldly. It’s the best drug. But while you're still relaxed, put one of your legs back, and let's shaving,” how he could think of something so silly at a time like this is beyond your thinking. But you do it.

You lift up your leg, and he smears the cream back on your body. Sliding the razor up your skin, and dipping it into the water to clean it. You could take a nap in his arms. Nothing has ever felt quite so comforting like being in his arms post orgasm. The tenderness to your core, makes you smile. Ari had been three fingers into you. And you pray that you continue to feel him later. Giving you a reminder that it wasn’t a dream.

“Shh,” he’s so soft in your ear, and you try to open your eyes; they’re just extra heavy today, and your head jars backwards, “Get some sleep. I’ll finish up here, okay?” You respond with a nod of your head, “Will you let me dress you?”

You give him a nod, but smirk, “Will you look at my pussy?”

“Of course I will,” your mouth quirks up into a sleepy smile, “I gotta see just how stretched out I had you, okay?” As vulgar as it sounds, you didn’t care if Ari took it upon himself to look at your pussy as he dresses you. You hum in response, hoping he understands that you’re completely okay with him doing it. You want him to look.

Want him to see what’s his.

All his.

Only his.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @patzammit

@theolivia-graham @steviebbboi @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @kandis-mom

[reidmarieprentiss]

omg need more chip taylor. Loved your fic of him!!!

Juno(OH)

Pairing: Chip Taylor x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: showering together (SFW)

Word count: 684

main masterlist

You returned home a day earlier than Chip expected. Technically, your trip ended on schedule, but you’d told him you wouldn’t be back until the next day, hoping to surprise him.

When you walked into your shared trailer, the sound of the shower running caught your attention. A smile spread across your face as you thought about sneaking in to join your man under the water before it turned cold.

As you approached the bathroom, however, you paused. Over the gentle rush of water, you could hear Chip’s voice singing along to the radio. The song choice stopped you in your tracks, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

Chip was belting out Juno by Sabrina Carpenter in the shower, completely unaware of your presence. The joy and enthusiasm in his performance only made you adore him more. c

You crept closer to the bathroom, careful to keep your steps light so as not to alert him to your presence. The muffled sound of water spraying against the tiles mixed with Chip's slightly off-key, but endearing, singing filled the small space.

He was really into it.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love.”

You had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. The passion in his voice was both hilarious and adorable, and you found yourself debating whether to tease him or let him keep enjoying his moment.

You decided to join in the fun. Kicking off your shoes quietly, you leaned against the doorframe and waited for a pause in his singing. As the verse ended, you belted out the next line with as much theatrical flair as you could muster.

“Oh, late at night I’m thinking ‘bout you–”

The shower stopped mid-verse.

 “WHAT THE—" Chip’s startled yelp was followed by a loud thud, as if he’d slipped on the soap. “Y/N?! What the hell?!”

You doubled over laughing, struggling to get the words out. “Oh my God, Chip! I didn’t think I’d scare you that bad!”

The shower curtain flew open, revealing a soaking wet Chip with suds still in his hair and a look of sheer embarrassment plastered across his face. His eyes narrowed at your hysterical figure. “You’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow! I wasn’t—” He gestured vaguely at himself and the singing that had just betrayed him. “This is not how I wanted you to come home!”

Through your laughter, you managed to step closer, resting a hand gently on his chest. “Oh, babe, don’t be mad. I think it’s adorable—you have such a gift!”

“I hate you,” Chip grumbled, his cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment.

“No, you don’t, baby,” you teased, your laughter bubbling up again.

Chip rolled his eyes dramatically, still flustered by being caught mid-performance. He muttered under his breath as he turned the shower back on, the steam rising around him.

“Are you actually mad?” you asked, your grin softening as you began peeling off your clothes again.

“Mhm,” he mumbled, the sound low and unconvincing. He wasn’t mad, not really, but his flustered state made him put on a show of grumpiness.

He didn’t even glance back as you stepped into the shower behind him, the warm water cascading over both of you. Unable to resist, you took a quick, appreciative glance at his perky behind before wrapping your arms snugly around his waist.

Smirking to yourself, you leaned closer and began to sing softly in his ear. “I know you want my touch for life…”

Chip groaned, his head falling forward slightly as he realized what you were doing.

“If you love me right, then who knows?” you continued, barely suppressing a laugh. “I might let you make me Juno…”

Chip let out a huff of laughter through his nose, finally giving in to the ridiculousness of the moment. Without turning around, he picked up the lyrics, singing off-key but with gusto, “You know I just might, let you lock me down for life…”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the sound mixing with the patter of the water, the moment as ridiculous as it was perfect.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 

[stephstars08]

History

Titans!Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, LONG INTRO, Angst, Fluff, Weapons, Injuries, Trauma, Heartbreak, Death Mentioned, Dark Themes Mentioned, Violence, Anxiety, Jealousy, Loneliness, and Possible Grammar Errors. (Sorry If I Forgot Any!)

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of Black Canary and Green Arrow. That’s how her and Jason met. They met through their parents. The two have so much history between them that is full of ups and downs.

Word Count: 2,212

Author’s Note: I’ve basically had this in my drafts unfinished all year till I finally just decided to finish it since the idea isn’t all that bad. If it’s a little confusing I apologize and the intro is basically a summary of how the reader and Jason became so close. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy it!

Y/N and Jason share a lot of history with one another. Y/N is the only daughter of Dinah Lance and and Olivier Queen who are Black Canary and Green Arrow. Y/N has the same powers her mother has which is a scream that sounds like a canary crying. However, Y/N’s scream is different. Her’s sounds more like a siren than a canary cry. That’s why when she goes out on patrol she goes by the name Siren.

Y/N is also a good and strong combat fighter. Both of her parents are good fighters but have different fight styles, so Y/N knows how to fight using both of her parents' fighting styles. And of course, she also knows how to use a bow and arrow as well.

Y/N and Jason met when her mom was helping Bruce who is Batman on a case that involved someone her mom had dealt with before and ever since that mission Y/N and Jason have grown a bond and have worked together on multiple occasions.

They joined the Titans together. Jason was excited but Y/N felt the opposite. Y/N felt like she did not fit in with a team even though everyone loved her. Jason and Dick helped her a lot with that feeling and made her feel like she belonged on the team.

Everything was going fine till Dick brought in this girl named Rose who just happened to be the daughter of Slade Wilson who is no other than the deadliest assassin, Deathstroke. When Dick let Rose stay in the tower, she butted heads with everyone especially Y/N. It was mostly because of who her father is. Deathstroke has a long history with Y/N’s parents. She knows all of the horrible things he has done.

It only got worse when Jason didn’t listen to Dick and got captured by Deathstroke. He tormented Jason. When Dick and Kory went to get him back Jason almost fell to his death till someone who looked just like Superman came to the rescue and caught him. When Jason returned to the tower Y/N knew something had changed inside of him. All he did was stay in his room which really concerned her. She would tell everyone that something was wrong, but everyone was dealing with their own shit and seemed not to care. They would just tell her he’s just still recovering from what Deathstroke put him through.

One night Y/N finally decided to take matters into her own hands and go talk to Jason. She felt like she was the only one that gave a fuck about Jason. She went to his room and went to knock on the door, but music was playing pretty loud so she just decided to just walk into the room which she immediately regretted it. She walked in to see Jason and Rose kissing. When Jason noticed her, he immediately broke the kiss. Before anyone could say anything Y/N just walked back out. After that happened Y/N couldn’t help but feel angry. She also felt jealousy boiling inside her too which did scare her. Jason is her friend, and she feels jealous about him kissing another girl. Why was she feeling jealous?

More chaos ensured after Dick confessed that he murdered Deathstroke’s son. The old Titans were the most upset. Everyone left the tower except Dick, Gar, and the guy who saved Jason were the only ones that were left. Y/N left with Donna and Rachel while Jason left with Rose which did hurt Y/N. She felt like he rather be with Rose than with her. Things didn’t end well between Rose and Jason. Turns out she was just using the team because her father wanted her to help him destroy the team. Y/N didn’t hear about the breakup till Rose reunited with the team to take down her father.

Y/N didn’t see Jason till Donna’s funeral. Donna had gotten electrocuted saving Dawn. They just shared a look and that was it. After Donna’s funeral Y/N went on her own.

She went back to Star City and started to fight crime on her own. She didn’t hear from any of the Titans till Jason became Red Hood after coming back from the dead. Dick brought Y/N back to help Jason come back to the good side which worked. After they finished Crane off and sent him back to Archam, Jason confessed his feelings for Y/N which she returned them. When she was out on her own that’s when she realized her feelings for Jason. When Jason was going through all that darkness Y/N was the one that helped him get through it and that’s when he realized he has feelings for her.

They started dating each other but sadly the relationship didn’t last very long.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was at the Gotham City Police Department with Barbara in her office. He’s helping Barbara solve a case that needed help from a vigilante more than a detective. There is a villain named Cupid who has showed up in Gotham. She’s been leaving dead men in alleyways. There have already been two victims. One man was found with an arrow through his chest and the other man was found with an arrow going through his head.

Barbara asked Jason if he’s ever dealt with Cupid which he said no. “Okay then I know someone who does know Cupid.” Barbara said which made Jason let out a sigh since he knew who Barbara was talking about. “Y/N.” Jason said putting his hands into the pockets of his zipped-up jacket.

“Yes, can you go to her and ask her for some help defeating Cupid, she’s done it before.” Barbara said to him. “I don’t know about that, Babs.” Jason said with nervousness in his voice. “Jason, I get it. You two had a shitty breakup but we really need her help with this case.” Barbara told him. Jason let out another sigh because he knew Barbara was right. Plus, he would’ve crossed paths with Y/N sometime. “Okay, I’ll go stop by her apartment.” Jason told her and walked out of the office.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason drove his motorcycle to the apartment building he use to share with Y/N. When he walked inside the building he could feel his heart rate speed up. He felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He stood in front of the door that read 3C in gold. He took a deep breath to calm his pacing nerves down.

He knocked on the door and waited. A couple minutes passed and there was no answer. Jason knocked on the door again and still no answer. Jason figured Y/N wasn’t home so he turned to walk away but before he could reach the steps the door opened to reveal Y/N. When he looked at her, he saw the broken look she had in her eyes. Those were the same broken eyes he saw the night he walked out on her.

“What the fuck do you want?” Y/N hissed obviously not happy to see him outside her door. “Y/N, I’m not here to fight.” Jason told her in a stern tone. “You have no business being here, so I don’t give a fuck why you are here.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. She went to close the door, but Jason stopped it from closing with one of his feet.

“Y/N, please. It’s important.” Jason told her. Y/N noticed the serious look in his eyes, so she knew he was telling the truth. “Fine.” Y/N said with a heavy sigh and walked away. Jason walked into the apartment and closed the door. He followed Y/N into the living room. She sat down on the chair while he sat down onto the couch.

“What’s going on?” Y/N asked him. “Barbara sent me here because we are dealing with a girl named Cupid. She’s already left two men dead in alleyways with an arrow in them.” Jason explained to her. “All I’m going to tell you is that she’s a skilled archer just like my dad.” Y/N told him and stood up.

She went to walk into the kitchen, but Jason quickly stood up and grabbed one of her arms. “That’s it?” Jason asked her. “You’re not going to help me take her down.” Jason added which made Y/N let out a heavy sigh. She pulled her arm out of his grip. “No, because that’s not who I am anymore.” Y/N told him which took him by surprise.

“You’re not Siren anymore?” Jason asked with a surprised look on his face. “Why?” He asked her. “Going out there as Siren just reminds me too much of what happened between us.” Y/N told him looking away from his gaze.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Jason told her with sincere in his voice. “If that was fucking true you wouldn’t have said what you said.” Y/N told him in a snappy tone. “I didn’t fucking know saving your boyfriend from a bullet was such a wrong thing. I didn’t know saving your boyfriend would make him lash out at you and just fucking leave you all by yourself!” Y/N told him looking back at him with a glare in her eyes.

Jason heard the pain in her voice. He regrets everything he said to her that night. Everyday he wishes he could go back in time and take back every word he said to her that night.

“I-” Jason started to say but she immediately cut him off. “You need to leave, now.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. Jason knew not to argue with her, so he walked out of the apartment. At least he gave her something.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The past couple of days Jason and Barbara had been tracking Cupid. Tonight was finally the night Jason was going to attack. They thought tonight was the perfect night, but it wasn’t going as Jason planned.

Jason was in his Red Hood gear getting his ass kicked by Cupid. When Y/N said Cupid is a skilled archer she forgot to mention that Cupid was also a skilled martial arts fighter. He got thrown into one of the concrete walls. He was too worn out to get back up.

“Now.” Cupid said as she walked up to him. She had her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. “It’s time to put you out of your fucking misery.” Cupid said aiming her arrow at Jason’s chest. Before she could shoot the arrow a siren like scream knocked Cupid down making her drop her arrow and bow. When the screaming stopped Jason looked over to see Y/N standing there in her Siren suit.

“Long time no see, Cupid.” Y/N said walking towards her. Y/N picked up Cupid’s bow. “Did you miss me?” Y/N asked with a taunting smirk. Cupid let out a growl as she got back up onto her feet. Before she could charge at Y/N, she used the bow to hit Cupid across the head. Cupid fell down onto the hard ground unconscious. “Crazy bitch.” Y/N hissed throwing the bow down onto the ground.

Y/N walked over to Jason. “Are you okay?” Y/N asked helping him up. “Nothing, but some cuts.” Jason told her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After the cops picked Cupid up Y/N took Jason back to her apartment to help address his cuts. She had him sitting on the couch. He had two deep cuts on his shoulder that she had to stitch up. Jason was sitting on the couch with just his pants on while Y/N sat next to him stitching up the cuts. There was a comfortable silence between the two.

“All done.” Y/N said after wrapping up his arm, so the stitches stay safe and in place. “Thanks.” Jason told her. Y/N just gave him a nod as she put all of the supplies back into the first aid kit.

“I thought you weren’t Siren anymore?” Jason asked her. Y/N let out a sigh as she closed the first aid kit that was sitting on the table. “Y/N.” Jason said in a soft voice. “I was scared that you would’ve been Cupid’s next victim.” Y/N told him without looking at him.

Jason took one of her hands into his’s which made her look at him. “Everything I said to you that night wasn’t directed at you, but it was directed at me.” Jason told her. “What?” Y/N asked in a confused tone. “When you took that bullet for me, I thought I was going to lose you.” Jason confessed as his eyes started to fill with tears. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Jason cried which made Y/N’s heart ache for him.

“Jason.” Y/N said putting her free hand onto one of his cheeks. She wiped away some of his tears with her thumb. She had tears streaming down her face, too. “Please take me back. I love you so much.” Jason said looking into her eyes. Y/N gave him a nod. “I love you, too.” Y/N told him.

“Want to start over?” Jason asked her. “Yes.” Y/N said with a nod. Jason leaned in and connected his lips with hers. Y/N returned the kiss. It felt so right for them to be back together, again.

[nomatterwhatnomatterwhere]

Feels (Wistful) like Summer Rain

A.N: Soo... it took me longer than I thought to finish this one. I'm really sorry about this. I'm not entirely satisfied, especially with the ending. I don't know. Let me know what you think. In any case I hope you like it

T.W: emotional abuse ( kinda ?), social anxiety ( done bad but still)

Max's pov: Feels (Warm) like Sunlight

Kelly's pov: Feels (Harsh) like Winter Wind

Misunderstanding Max was not difficult, in fact he made it quite easy. And you had always read too much between the lines

That was why you hadn't insisted when Max had wanted to change the subject when you'd alluded to Kelly.

Part of you wanted to insist, to know if it was worth it after all, to take a step back. But another part didn't want to hurt Max any more than the rest of the world already had.

He hardly ever gave it away, but he didn't like being labelled the villain of the story. The villain of every story.

Who would?

Yet with the character he had on the track, with his racing manner, he was perfect for the role.

You remembered perfectly his eyes asking you to confirm what the tabloids reported, whether it was true that he was unfair and violent.

You remembered well how easy it was to see his poker face collapse at the slightest hint, and how no one seemed to notice.

Or maybe they pretended not to notice.

Because people like to see what they want to see, what suits them, and it didn't matter if they ruined other people's lives with their way of doing things.

Because people had seen Max's raw talent and had decided that that sixteen-year-old boy was the ideal villain in a world of competitiveness where only the best can triumph.

That's exactly why you meant every word you said, that you were truly sorry, because you had seen how happy Kelly had made him, and you really hoped the two of them had parted better than the gossip pages let on, and it hurt that you couldn't be more of a comfort to him at that moment.

But you didn't belong there.

Not any more. For a long time.

Max had caught your eye long before you realised it.

Your situation at the time wasn't the best, but that didn't mean you were easily distracted, quite the contrary.

It had been rather strange how between acting as if nothing was changing at school, and dealing with foster care at home, it had been Max who had caught your attention.

Max didn't attend classes much, and no one really knew why, plus his home situation wasn't much happier than yours.

Only yours had been handled much better. His were rumours that were somehow confirmed.

Maybe he had attracted you because you thought you were similar, even though you knew how different you really were.

Those few times you saw Max at school, he never tried to hang out with the others; no matter how much his gaze lingered on the groups of kids at recess, he never got up to go to them, and they always kept their distance from him, but Max never seemed to mind so much.

You, on the other hand, always had anxiety about being alone, you didn't want to stay with your thoughts. But you also got anxious when you were with your friends, because you were never really honest with them, because you didn't want to argue with anyone, because you never took sides for fear they would get angry with you and leave you alone.

Somehow neither of you were really comfortable with the others.

You found out why Max was so absent because you asked the Vermeulen, your foster parents.

It had taken you a while to open up to them, not because they were mean or you didn't like them, they were just different from what you were used to, and you didn't want to be a burden of any kind to them, who had welcomed you with open arms first into their home and then into their family

It had not been easy for them either, the therapist who had dealt with you had said that your adapting so much to what others wanted was the result of a trauma that you had not yet realised you had suffered.

And how could you, what the psychologist called ‘trauma’ had been normal for you until child welfare workers had turned up on your doorstep asking you to pack your bags.

In fact, you had difficulty understanding why they had taken you away from your parents: they were not violent, had never beaten you and they had never made you lack anything. Of course they often shouted at each other, about things you didn't understand, but wasn't that something all couples did? They demanded that you behave well in every situation, that you never talk back, and that you do well at school, but there was nothing strange in expecting you to be a polite child. They weren't affectionate parents, but that didn't make them monsters, most people don't like physical contact and your parents were that kind of person.

The Vermeulens had given you an mp3 so you could listen to the music you wanted when you were studying without feeling guilty about the volume. When you travelled by car Vincent, Mr Vermeulen, always took the longer and more scenic drives because you liked to watch the scenery change, and you could listen to a few more songs because that mp3 had become your best friend. They had taken you to see The Nutcracker at the theatre because it was your favourite CD in Mrs Vermeulen's vast collection, Julie, you had listened to it so much that she had bought a copy just for you.

For Christmas they had taken you to a Christmas fair because you had never been to one, with Julie putting your scarf over your nose every three times so you wouldn't look too much like Rudolph and Vincent holding you on his shoulders when your feet started to hurt.

The best thing, though, was seeing the two of them at the candy stand arguing over which was better between liquorice and gummy bears, only to see you choose milk candy. From then on there were always packets of those sweets around the house

It was this blatant distinction between your parents‘ and the Vermeulens’ way of doing things that made it difficult for you to open up to them: You loved your parents, but Julie and Vincent made you feel not only valued but also part of something, and that made you feel ungrateful and unappreciative.

That was a thought you didn't feel ready to share yet though, so you diverted to the other thought that wandered through your head with no intention of paying rent

"He participates in a lot of races, that kid is a karting prodigy."

Max wasn't family, but Vincent couldn't deny that he had a keen eye for the little devil that haunted his go kart track, perhaps because you could see from afar that little Verstappen had talent to spare, or perhaps because a bit like you, he looked to him like a child older than his age.

Maybe that was why he didn't object when Julie, after a doubtful look from you, suggested you spend some time at the go-kart track and see for yourself how good your classmate was

The go-kart track was your second - third ? - home. You liked how every time you went there you felt relieved of a burden, you felt free of the tension of having to be attentive to everything around you, that was probably why you had never noticed Max before.

But once you did, it was hard not to notice him: he was one with the kart, he looked like he was made for racing on the track.

It was also hard not to notice his father: Jos Verstappen was someone who made you feel strange, somehow Jos reminded you of your parents even if you didn't quite understand how that was possible.

Your parents would never have left you somewhere because you had not achieved the desired results in a competition. Jos always seemed to be dissatisfied with what Max did, and Max seemed sad, even though it was obvious that he loved racing on the track

You had approached him after Jos had left him stranded for the umpteenth time. You knew he'd come to pick him up. If he hadn't, his mother would have done it. But that time he seemed the most broken you had ever seen him.

You weren't sure what it was, but since that day something had clicked between you: it was the reading between the lines, the catching of a different look from the usual, the slight change in tone, the getting to know each other so intimately that made your relationship with Max so immensely different from any other.

It was something that grew with you over time, something uniquely yours but that everyone around you perceived, even without really understanding it.

That was why you thought you had a special place in his life: apart from his family, you were the person he spent most time with on and off the track.

You always knew what was going on in his head without him uttering a word, not that Max was one who didn't speak.

Max could talk a lot when he wanted to, and when he talked about something he liked - racing, engines, winning - he had a light in his eyes that made it impossible not to be spellbound listening to him.

To say that Max wasn't popular would be a lie, you remembered with deep affection his confused look when he found a stack of Valentine's Day dedications on the counter, his gaze seeking confirmation in yours, as if to ask if what was happening was normal, and his not knowing quite how to act about it.

It was something Victoria often teased him about, not knowing how to read those social interactions

"Probably all the space in his head is taken up with strategies for competitions."

You really thought you had a chance, you saw it: you saw how Max sought your gaze before others, how he somehow searched for your approval, your support. How he was looking for you.

At least until Kelly had arrived and reality had hit you like a bucket of ice water as the ground beneath your feet crumbled.

You wanted so badly for him to love you back that you had seen things that had never been there, because obviously Max had never had a thing for you.

Because otherwise you wouldn't have seen that look in his eyes, as if Kelly had attached the moon to the sky.

You wouldn't have seen that smile so joyful when he talked to her, when you had waited years to see him smile like that.

You wouldn't have felt like you were in the way.

It sucked to feel that way. Rejected. It hurt so much that even the thought of feeling that way again led you to avoid seeing his races, limiting yourself to messages of good luck or congratulations, but even those were short-lived

"I think I've lived Max's life enough" was what you told the Vermeulen after days of silence "Racing is his passion. Not mine. I think it's time to try something new" you had finished with a small smile, resigned, but at least not forced.

But that didn't mean they didn't stay awake with you when you cried at night, in case you needed something.

You wouldn't have needed anything.

But they kept leaving you over the kitchen counter a cup of hot chocolate, bitter, because you had long since given up the absurd amount of sugar that was milk candy.

They had both been open and understanding when with downcast eyes you had asked, whispered, if it was all right for you to walk away from that world

"You're your own person, and it's just right you try different things and what works better for you. Our world doesn't have to be your world. And that won't change what we feel about you"

You realised you were crying when Julie wiped the tears from your face. She had just painted her nails.

Relationships with the Verstappens went on without too much trouble, they had only diminished, sleepovers and outings with Victoria were still a must have and Sophie had never made a secret of how much she enjoyed your company.

Only once had you been asked if you would like to see one of Max's races live again.

Neither of them had insisted when you had declined due to an important commitment that day, but neither of them had missed how tense you were at the question.

It was true though, even if you had wanted to go, you couldn't because you really had an important commitment.

Since your time away from the world of racing you had tried different things, but radio was the one you felt most at home in: whether you were put on the assistant director's desk or the leaderboard or whatever, you felt you were in your own world.

When you had been offered to replace one of the announcers you had accepted, even if it meant not sleeping until the next morning. It was worth it, in the end, because they had confirmed you for that nightly column which, although niche, had seen a significant increase in ratings since you had been hosting it. The audience liked your approach, they interacted more, even at that ungodly hour, and even for the other hosts it was clear that that was your place.

The YouTube channel came later, even though it wasn't entirely your idea: at first it was stories or live feeds on Instagram, but your audience seemed to like it and they suggested you expand it, so you did.

There were people who didn't like you, who thought you were fake and posh, and who enjoyed sending you unkind comments. But it didn't matter any more.

There were people who liked you, even without ever having seen you. People who without knowing you thanked you because you had said something that made their day better, or because they felt understood by someone.

(That had been another reason for your broadening the topics of discussion on your channel).

Deciding to do a live broadcast from the kart track had been something you had been thinking about for a while. Even though you had drifted away from the world of racing, it had always been a part of you, and it would come back to greet you cyclically when you got notifications of start times, qualifying results or penalty investigations.

You hadn't managed to completely detach yourself from what had been your world for most of your life, those who knew you simply didn't know this side of you.

You were embarrassed to say that the reason you no longer followed the sport so assiduously was because it reminded you of how your first crush had rejected you without realising it, and you were even more embarrassed to think that that little crush on Max Verstappen had never really got over.

But the kartdrome was not just the more or less painful memories of Max. It was also the hiding between the tyres to study, the milk sweets you offered to everyone who came in, the people who switched from karts to formula but always went back to their roots, so you decided to give it a try.

You didn't know how you would react if it went wrong, but fortunately for you your interest in the sport seemed to be appreciated, so much so that you found yourself walking around a paddock again after not setting foot there for years.

Returning to breathe the air of racing was strange: it wasn't something new, but it was different from what you remembered.

It was strange to move around and meet people who wanted to take a photo with you, hug you or just say hello, you didn't think you had brought much to what was the world of car racing, yet everywhere you turned there were people who seemed to think otherwise.

It was even stranger to meet familiar faces long before they became famous. You'd known them from Max's races, you'd even stopped to talk to some on occasion, but you hadn't kept in touch.

"Look who's finally back"

It had taken you a while to realise that Esteban was talking to you: you couldn't remember ever having spoken a word to him when you went to watch the races. He must have noticed, as he snorted a laugh before showing you a photo in which oh, yeah, that was definitely you wearing a sweatshirt kindly donated by Max standing next to you

The other kid in the photo must have been Esteban but in your eyes he was so different that you had to alternate your gaze between him and the photo before you really realised.

"You were always nice to everyone. It was a shame not to see you around any more."

He had been the first to say it, but after meeting other drivers the general thought seemed the same: you were someone who, despite everything, stuck out.

Not once had the thought of how you would behave if you met Max crossed your mind.

That's why you didn't know how to react when you met him.

Although perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was he who had met you.

It wasn't that you hadn't recognised him, you were realising that the man in front of you, with the two glasses in his hand, wasn't one of the many people there.

It was Max Verstappen.

The same Max Verstappen who didn't know how to deal with others, who watched from afar as the other children played, not knowing which way to approach them.

You didn't know what it was, whether an involuntary reflex or something else, but you broke that embarrassed silence.

Yours was not a question to be answered with ‘less than you think’, and you were ready to ask for an argument if he did not ask another question

"Why didn't you come to the Redbull pit?"

That wasn't a question to ask someone you hadn't seen in a long time, especially not in that tone that almost seemed to accuse you, when he had no right to do so

"Sorry what-"

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to the races? I could've-"

"I didn't have to tell you tho" maybe you had been too blunt in answering him, but it was true. You didn't have to give any information, plus it would have been weird to tell Max with whom you had been radio silent for years "We hadn't talked in ages, I couldn't just text you. It didn't feel right, you know?"

You had seen his gaze change and could feel the wheels turning in his head, but you too had started to ask yourself some questions

"Didn't think you knew I was there … Was it Vic who told you?"

"Heard you on the radio"

Oh. You didn't think Max was a radio guy, honestly. Not least because even though they'd changed them, your column times still remained infamous.

There was another silence that led to your apology for his break-up with Kelly, a subject Max didn't seem to want to talk about at all, given the fleeting change of expression.

He was pensive. And sad. Yet more proof of how important Kelly was to him.

Somewhat resentfully you wondered if he had ever made such an expression thinking about you, although you found it difficult that between all his commitments Max found time to think about you. He hadn't thought about you since he started dating Kelly, why would he now

"I can get you a pass, if you plan to watch the race"

You had laughed.

What else were you supposed to do in a situation that oscillated between the ridiculous and the comical

"If I plan to watch the race? I don't think you will ever find someone who's not here for the race. Well, they sure have other things to do, but you know what I mean"

It was common knowledge that the Montecarlo race was the VIP hangout, and you didn't think you had to be the one to explain it to Max

"I appreciate the thought, but I already got my pass, but thank you"

you backed away from the railing you had been leaning against, convinced that the conversation would end there, now that you had nothing to go on talking about, but what he asked next left you mildly surprised

"Even for Quali?"

He "You… “ remembered "have my attention"

It wasn't common knowledge, but you often preferred qualifying to racing: there was something about pre-race performances that gave you goosebumps, an adrenaline rush you could never quite describe. Max knew it. He'd listened to you for hours as you explained how the qualifying air was different, and he often agreed with you, even if he would just put his head down and let you talk.

Time may have passed, but he still had that same expression that you had never been able to put a name to.

You had smiled when you recognised Raymond's voice greeting you: he had been Verstappen's manager for as long as you could remember, but it was he who had steered you into the world of radio. You owed him a lot -

(Did that make you an honorary nepo- baby of some kind?).

After asking him to pass on your apologies to Ray you were drawn into another conversation, and then another and another, that you almost didn't notice how Max's presence followed you around like a shadow, though not physically, and how that seemed to make the others uncomfortable.

Almost.

It had been like stepping back in time for an evening: sensing his gaze from a distance, knowing exactly what he was thinking with just a glance, having conversations that lasted a blink of an eye, a slight smile or a shake of the head

And you were pretty sure the next day you would have regretted not clarifying the situation right away.

It had come back to you why you thought you had a chance with him, why you had seen things that had never been there, why you had fallen in love with him

Misunderstanding Max wasn't difficult, in fact, he made it quite easy.

And you had always read too much between the lines

[yougavememyopia]

Desperate, pathetic yandere that would do anything for your attention. No matter how humiliating.

He'd make sure to "accidentally" fall down in front of you so you help him up. You have to! It's what any person would do.

He'd put on an extra dramatic act for you. Pretending he injured his ankle really badly. Crying his heart out. He'd make you feel like a hero that saved the day.

You become his friend after helping him heal, spending the entire day with him. Of course, he'd do something for you to make up for occupying your time. Buy you dinner at a fancy restaurant. It's not excessive at all. It was the closest place and he was very picky with his food.

After a while, he only becomes more annoying with his tactics. He's more confident now. Not afraid to get caught lying.

"Ow, a paper cut. It hurts so bad... Can you kiss it better?"

"My shoulders feel so tense... Can you message them for me? Please?"

"I think my hair is all tangled. Can you run your hands through them? It'll soothe the pain..."

He'll start saying how he's never had his first kiss before, and you're his friend. You can teach him, right?

You reject him. You think he's dumb, clumsy, and lacks severe social awareness.

"Just one kiss! Please. Please. Please. Please. Pretty please. Pretty pleaseeee~"

"No. I already told you that kisses need to have intentions."

"And the intention is that.. I learn."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Nooo! Come on.."

He opens his mouth to probably whine more. And you've had enough.

You push your fingers in his mouth. You don't really know how it happened. The feeling of his warm mouth against your skin felt good, but you didn't lose composure. You were annoyed.

"Shut. Up. Shut up. For fuck's sake, it's been half an hour!"

He whimpers against your fingers. The feeling of your fingers in his mouth made him feel euphoric. Just as you were about to pull them out, he began to suck. His eyes were half-lidden as they looked into yours. It was as if he was begging for more.

"What the hell are you doing?" You tried to yank back your hand, but he grabbed your wrist. A pained moan escaped him. As if pulling out your fingers will physically hurt him.

"Nnmh.." He sucked greedily at your skin, licking in between your fingers. It was getting a bit hot.

"Ugh, you're disgusting! What's gotten into you?" You forcibly take your fingers out, yanking your wrist out of his grasp.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just.. I just- Um.."

What was he supposed to say? He couldn't think of anything. All he could do was lower himself down on his knees, look up at you, and beg for forgiveness.

[avvwritesstufff]

𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙄𝙩 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠

𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒- For nearly eight months, Nicole and Paige had been secretly entangled in a relationship that felt equal parts thrilling and dangerous. They’d always known each other, but everything shifted during last year’s tournament. Paige, the star basketball player, and Nicole, the cheer captain—it was the kind of romance that belonged in a teen drama, full of stolen glances and whispered promises. Paige was known for being a player, but with Nicole, it was supposed to be different. Paige swore she loved her, that she’d do anything for her. And for a while, Nicole believed it. Even when she caught Paige in compromising situations more than once, she let it slide. Paige always promised it wouldn’t happen again. Nicole wanted to believe her. She needed to believe her.

𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙈𝙀𝙎- Angst, gaslighter!paige and gullible!oc

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏- 1.8k+

𝘼/𝙉- this is NOT read over or anything and it’s so bad so i’m sorry i had to curse your tumblr with this☹️

It was a chilly evening in Storrs, the kind of night where the crisp air made everything feel sharper, more alive. Nicole had just gotten back from her late-night class, feeling the fatigue of the day settle in. Usually, evenings like this were reserved for hanging out with Paige, but tonight was different. Paige had canceled last minute for some team bonding activity that her Coach had insisted on. Nicole didn’t take it personally—she’d been through plenty of those herself and understood how it went.

Still, the change in routine left her at a loose end.

As she kicked off her shoes and considered an early night, her phone buzzed. It was her friends, Hailee, Angie, and Brooklyn.

“You have to come out with us tonight,” Angie insisted. “We haven’t seen you since school started! You’ve practically gone ghost!”

Nicole hesitated, guilt creeping in. They weren’t wrong. Ever since things with Paige had deepened, she’d pulled back from everyone else without really noticing. “Okay, fine. I’m in,” she finally agreed, knowing they wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The best part of going out, Nicole thought as she rummaged through her closet, was always the getting-ready phase. Her dorm buzzed with energy as Hailee, Angie, and Brooklyn arrived, makeup bags in hand.

Loud music blasted from the TV as they crowded around the small mirror, trading tips and compliments while brushes and eyeliner flew around. For the first time in what felt like forever, Nicole let herself relax, laughing at their inside jokes and soaking in the warmth of their company.

“Alright, Nikki,” Angie teased, narrowing her eyes as she applied her lipstick. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Nicole froze mid-swipe of mascara. “What?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Oh, come on,” Angie pressed, smirking. “We’re not dumb. You’ve been MIA, and don’t think we haven’t noticed that hickey on your neck.”

Nicole’s hand shot to her neck instinctively. She laughed awkwardly, her cheeks flushing. “It’s not like that. My classes have just been insane this semester.” She stood up quickly and made her way to the kitchen.

Angie raised a skeptical brow, following her. “Right, because classes leave perfectly placed hickeys on your neck. Sure, Nikki. Tell us another one.”

Nicole sighed, realizing she wouldn’t win this battle. “Fine! Yes, I’ve been seeing someone. But it’s really not a big deal.”

Angie’s eyes lit up. “Oh my God, spill! What’s his name?”

Nicole hesitated, thinking fast. “Um… Paul. His name’s Paul. He’s sweet. And hot.”

“Paul?” Angie repeated, tilting her head. “Alright, what’s his last name? Let me look him up on Instagram.”

“Oh, he’s not on Insta,” Nicole replied quickly, pouring herself two shots from the freezer. “He’s more of an off-the-grid kind of guy.”

Angie frowned but before she could press further, Nicole checked her phone. “Wow, would you look at that? It’s already 9:30. Time to go!”

The subject was dropped—for now—as they hurried to get their coats and head out.

The four of them piled into Hailee’s boyfriend’s car, who kindly dropped them off at the local bar. As they walked in, Nicole took in the lively atmosphere: the hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the low beat of music in the background.

The girls claimed a corner table, but Nicole made a beeline for the bar. She ordered a Dirty Shirley—Paige’s favorite—and as the bartender handed her the drink, it hit her.

She hadn’t talked to Paige all night.

PB💕

3:36 pm

Coach said I can't be

on my phone during this

thing, I'll call you later if

I'm not exhausted

Love you💕

(nikki❤️this message)

hey p,

i haven’t heard from

you and wanted to make

sure everything was going

good, i love u❤️

Nicole set her phone down and glanced up, and there she was—Paige. In the middle of the crowded room. With another girl.

Nicole froze. The world around her seemed to blur, her focus locked on the scene unfolding before her. All she could do was sit there, paralyzed, as disbelief washed over her. Paige wasn’t just with someone else—she had lied. And to Nicole, that was the most jarring part. Paige never lied. At least, that’s what Nicole thought she knew.

Time dragged, stretching what was barely a minute into what felt like hours. Finally, Paige looked her way. Their eyes met. Nicole felt a tear slip down her cheek, unbidden and unwelcome. The moment Paige saw her, Nicole broke the connection, pushing herself up and weaving through the tightly packed bodies in the bar. She needed air.

Outside, the cool night air hit her face as she sank onto the steps, staring blankly ahead. Her tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away, determined not to let them win.

The door burst open behind her.

“Nik! Nicole—thank God. Please, let me explain!” Paige’s voice was frantic as she scanned for her.

Nicole didn’t turn, didn’t flinch. She just stared ahead, her face expressionless.

Paige moved closer. “Ma, come on—” she reached out, her hand brushing Nicole’s arm.

“Don’t touch me.” Nicole’s voice was flat, cold, devoid of the warmth Paige once knew. She jerked her arm away.

Paige knelt in front of her, her voice softer now, pleading. “Let’s go home, Nik. We can talk about this. You’re the only one I care about, you know that. I don’t even know that girl’s name—she came up to me, I swear.”

Nicole hesitated. Her mind raced, torn between fleeing and confronting the betrayal. She exhaled sharply.

“Fine. But let me say goodbye to my friends first.”

Paige nodded, following closely as Nicole re-entered the bar. Nicole wiped her face quickly, masking her turmoil as she approached her friends.

“Guys, don’t kill me,” she said with a forced laugh. “I’ve got an important assignment due in an hour. I promise I’ll stay longer next time!”

They groaned but hugged her goodbye, none of them catching the storm beneath her calm exterior.

Outside again, the silence between them was heavy. Once in the car, Paige started the engine, glancing nervously at Nicole.

“Nicole, you know you’re the only one I want. I was trying to push her off me, I promise—”

“No.” Nicole’s voice cut her off, sharp and steady. “Stop that. You don’t get to promise or swear on anything anymore. You’re a liar, Paige. And I’m not stupid. This isn’t the first girl, and it won’t be the last.”

Her voice cracked, but she kept her eyes fixed ahead. Paige reached out, but Nicole flinched.

“Baby, come on. You know I’d never—”

“Stop calling me that,” Nicole snapped, her voice rising. “You’re a narcissistic piece of shit, and I never should’ve agreed to this. You can’t commit to anything but basketball.”

Paige’s jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling over. “Nik, what the fuck. You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

Nicole let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I know exactly what I’m saying. How many, Paige? How many girls have you cheated on me with? Actually, forget it—I don’t want to know. Let me out.”

“What? Are you serious? The car’s moving, Nicole!” Paige veered onto the shoulder, her voice rising.

“Let me out!” Nicole fumbled with her seatbelt, finally yanking the door open.

“Nicole, stop! You’re drunk!” Paige shouted, pulling the car to a screeching halt as Nicole stumbled onto the pavement.

Ignoring her, Nicole began walking down the dark street.

“Nicole, get back in the car!” Paige called after her, panic lacing her voice. “I’m not leaving you out here in the cold!”

“Leave me alone, Paige. My dorm’s two blocks away.” Nicole’s voice was slurred but defiant as she staggered forward.

Paige caught up to her, grabbing her arm just as Nicole tripped. She steadied her, their eyes meeting. For a brief moment, Nicole saw a flicker of the Paige she had fallen for—the girl who had made the last eight months feel like a dream.

Without a word, Nicole turned and walked back to the car. Paige followed, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto her face.

“Just because i’m in the car doesn’t mean we are good paige” nicole states turning toward the door and leaning against it

The ride back was short, but the silence between them was deafening.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Paige helped Nicole out of the car, steadying her as they walked to her dorm. The night air was cold, but the silence between them was colder.

At the door, Paige hesitated, then pushed it open and followed Nicole inside.

“Out,” Nicole said, her voice low and sharp, pointing at the door.

Paige ignored her, forcing a soft smile. “Baby, you’re just drunk. I don’t wanna leave you alone like this.” She closed the door behind her and gently guided Nicole toward her bedroom.

Nicole didn’t argue, too drained to fight. She sat on the edge of her bed, watching Paige through tired, narrowed eyes. Paige set her phone down on the nightstand and knelt in front of her, slipping off Nicole’s shoes with care.

“I got you,” Paige murmured, her voice soft, almost tender. She helped Nicole out of her jacket, then started removing her makeup with a tissue from the bedside table.

Nicole didn’t say a word, just stared at Paige, trying to decide if this was love or manipulation.

“I’m gonna grab you some water,” Paige said, standing up. “Try to lie down.”

As Paige left the room, Nicole let out a shaky breath. Her eyes landed on the phone Paige had left on the nightstand. It lit up with a notification.

Snapchat: Nessa🤫🍑📞

Nicole’s stomach churned. She picked up the phone, her fingers trembling as she unlocked it—no password. The messages stared back at her:

Nessa🤫🍑📞: When are you gonna be here? I neeeed you, Paige.

Nessa🤫🍑📞: Bro, are you seriously ignoring me because of that girl you’re “with”? Like, come on, Paige. You know I’m the one—not her.🙄

Nicole’s blood ran cold. Every doubt, every suspicion she’d tried to push aside slammed into her like a freight train.

Paige walked back in, a glass of water in hand. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Nicole standing there, holding her phone.

Nicole handed it to her without a word. “Get out.”

Paige opened her mouth, but the look in Nicole’s eyes stopped her. It wasn’t anger; it was something colder, something final. Nicole stepped past her and opened the door, standing silently as she waited.

Paige hesitated, her fingers tightening around her phone. She wanted to fight, to explain, but she knew better. She could come back tomorrow. She always did. Say she was sorry, promise Nicole the world, and somehow, break it right back.

Without a word, Paige walked out.

Nicole closed the door, locking it behind her. She leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. The tears came then, silent but relentless, each one carving out a piece of the love she’d held for Paige.

For the first time, she let herself wonder if she could ever put the pieces back together.

Tag list-

@yassedblogs

[dexteri0us]

i think i'm 'bout to explode, i can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: hints of fluff, smut - unprotected sex, slight spanking (hand and belt), oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, slight choking, biting, dom!dexter, blood (i mean, obviously, he's a freak); sassy dexter

summary: requested: "...morning sex with dexter before he goes to work..."

w/c: around 5k

a/n: your wish is my command. thanks for requesting! :)

You and Dexter were perfect for each other – or close enough. You loved his bluntness, his dry sense of humor (which wasn’t always humor) and his demons, whatever they were. You had your suspicions, but you had yet to muster the nerve to ask him directly about them. It was so frustrating, because you prided yourself on opening controversial or inappropriate topics. You kept telling yourself that you were just afraid of losing the tension between the two of you once you’d call him out on his nocturnal disappearances.  

Some nights, he’d come home at an ungodly hour, collapsing into the bed beside you like gravity finally caught up with him. Occasionally, you’d wake to his stubble brushing your cheek as he laid kisses along your face. More often than not, you were too tired to make something out of it, and usually, you also assumed he’d just gotten off on something else, because he would sigh and nuzzle into you like he was still riding en endorphin rush.

You rarely engaged in a sex in the middle of the night, unless he demanded it. Once, you told him he could do whatever he wanted with you. Yours and Dexter’s sex life had its own intricate taxonomy:  I am objectifying you right in this moment and want your body sex or my hormones are acting up sex. The list was long, really, but at the very top was something went wrong sex. That was your favorite, but too bad for you, because it wasn’t very often that you got to experience it. Dexter is very careful and focused most of the time. He doesn’t make mistakes. The bright side of that: you’d never ever get tired of it. Those nights felt like Christmas. No. Better than Christmas.

One evening, he came home earlier than usual (you weren’t even asleep yet). He was so angry. So frustrated. And you wanted to help. You set aside the book you were reading (it was about a woman who fell in love with a sociopath. safe to say, it was an intriguing read) when he stormed into the room. You crawled to the foot of the bed, watching his sharp movements with wide eyes as he took off his army green shirt.

You’d always imagined yourself grinding on him while he wore his uniform. And that time was no different. But that night wasn’t about you. It was about him. Well, partly.

“Can I help?”

“No.” his tone was clipped as he continued to move frantically around the room.

You weren’t sure if you should push his buttons. Your heart beat out of your chest from the nerves. Part of you thought maybe you should back off; the other part – it thrived on the uncertainty, the thrill of not knowing how far you could push before he snapped.

“I could make you something to eat…”

Horse shit. You couldn’t cook to save your life, and he knew that. But he just scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a humorless smirk.  

“How about a bath? I could light those lavender candles and throw in one of my bath bombs.”

“I said no.”  

You were still kneeling on the bed, dressed in your checkered shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. Trying to act as innocently as possible.

“Do you want–”

He finally charged toward you, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Do I need to spell it out?”

Finally. Bait taken.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, slowly rising to your knees. The top of your head barely reached his chin, forcing you to tilt your neck to meet his gaze.

You started placing kisses along his collarbone, trailing up over his shoulder and to his neck. Your hand rested on his chest, palm splayed over his heart.

“Any chance I can sub in for one of them tonight?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin.

His brows furrowed and then shot up. “Them?”

You felt the sudden quickening of his pulse beneath your hand. You nibbled on your lower lip as you nodded.

“Who’s them?”

Instead of answering, you tanhled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was a reassurance, a promise that you’d always be there. Okay, maybe you did it because you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want to activate a chain reaction.

He leaned into you, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you. When your lips parted, your forehead rested against his.

“You tell me, Dexter. Or don’t. I don’t care. But I want you to be happy. Do whatever you need to me if that’s what it takes.”  

Pathetic? Most definitely. But who cares? He secretly loved it when you got like this – whiny, needy, entirely his.

His hand cupped your right cheek, his thumb brushing a faint vertical line against your skin, the nail scratching just enough to leave a fleeting mark. But his gaze darkened again, pupils dilating, like he was replaying unhappy memories.

He kissed you then – hard and insistent. His hand circled your neck, his thumb pressing just underneath your ear, while the rest of his fingers gripped the other side, his pointer brushing against your earlobe. Your hand instinctively shot up, clutching his forearm as if steadying yourself for what was coming.

Long story short, he fucked you that night, like never before. And since then, you’d been relying on your own version of Thorndike’s Law of Effect: if you wanted to ignite that fire in him, to get destroyed by him, you had to be a brat. Acting like you had control was the fastest way to make him prove otherwise. Sometimes you suspected he loved control more than he loved you. You’d told him that once, and he’d said you were being dramatic. Again. Well, you could still weaponize it.

The problem was, Dexter was otherwise a calm and patient boyfriend. He tolerated your antics with an almost infuriating ease, whether it was leaving the windshield wipers on long after the rain stopped or overbuying carrots at the farmer’s market only for him to help you eat the whole bowl of carrot salad. He even helped you find reliable owners for the stray cats that always “followed” you home. He was so good to you, and that’s why you always had to wait for something to go wrong. That’s when he was at his weakest and that’s when you struck.

Today’s the day. It was Friday and you didn’t have any classes, so you hadn’t set an alarm. You usually managed to wake up before 8 am – not too early, not too late. But this time, it wasn’t the sunlight or your internal clock that stirred you awake. It was the sound of chewing. Muffled munching, punctuated by the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate.

You cracked your eyes open, squinting as the golden rays of the early Miami morning sun flooded the room. You groaned softly and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. 7:42. Acceptable.

Blinking the sleep away, you shifted your gaze to Dexter. He sat propped against the headboard on his side of the bed, a plate balanced on his lap, spearing pieces of egg and bacon with his fork before shoving them into his mouth.

What the fuck?

He never ate in bed. One time, when you’d brought a bowl of popcorn to share during a movie night, he’d almost thrown you out.

“I’m not a clean freak. You just can’t even drink out of a bottle without spilling it all over the place,” he’d said. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but you’d managed to convince him anyway.

Now, though? Now he was the one violating the sacred no-food-in-bed rule.

“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy as you reached for him.

He paused, registering your movement, and turned to you. His fork hovered mid-air as his gaze softened, just enough for him to take your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles. It was a gentle gesture, the grease from his lips lingered on your skin.  

“Hey,” he said, offering a weak smile. His voice carried a strange edge too, almost shaky.

You watched him carefully, he turned back to his food and with a quick flick of the remote, he raised the volume on the TV you hadn’t even noticed was on.   

The screen showed a reporter standing in front of a crime scene, her voice urgent as she rattled off details about a recent incident. They flashed an image of a man – the criminal – and then back to the reporter.

Your eyes darted from the TV to Dexter. His brow was drawn low, his stare almost predatory as he watched the broadcast. His jaw tightened and released, the muscles flexing as he chewed. Occasionally, his teeth ground together, producing a faint, grating sound.

He was in the mood. And it hit you.

He never ate in bed. He wanted you to provoke him. A slow smirk curled your lips.

“Careful, Dex. You might intimidate the reporter through the TV.”

His grip on the fork tightened and chewing came to an abrupt halt. He exhaled sharply through his nose, not amused.

“Not today.”

“Did someone leave a typo in their lab report or what?”

He stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth without so much as glancing at you.  

“Drop it.”

“Oh no, did Masuka out-gross you again?”

The plate clattered onto the bedside table with a force that made you flinch. Before you could react, he was on you. In a flash, his hand gripped your cheeks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

That was easier than you thought.

“Funny? No. I think I’m just observant.”

His eyes narrowed, dark and unrelenting as he studied you. His grip on your cheeks tightened just enough to make your lips purse.

“Is that what you call running your mouth until you get yourself in trouble?”

You couldn’t help it. Even with his face inches from yours, his hand firm on your cheeks, you smirked. “Please, Dexter, you’re all bark and no bite.”

Now you were just being annoying. He was actually all bite and no bark. His jaw ticked anyway, a muscle jumping just beneath his skin. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips as his nose brushed against your cheek.

“You really want to test that theory?”

You tried to shrug, but his grip on you made the movement awkward.

The air between you was thick, electric. His eyes searched yours, and you finally saw that primal tweak of his.

Then, without a warning, he released your cheeks and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head. His strength was effortless, his movement precise.

“If you don’t come at least four times until I have to leave for work, I’m not gonna let you come for four weeks at all.”

Shit. Four weeks is a long time. That’s a whole month!

“Now you’re setting ultimatums?”

“Your time is running out, you sure you want to talk back?”

And that was your cue to finally keep your mouth shut.

“Good girl.” He said, the words sending a jolt straight through you, and you became acutely aware of the wetness pooling in your sleep shorts.

“On your knees. Grab the headboard.”

You obeyed without hesitation, pressing your chest into the mattress as you shifted onto your knees, sticking your ass into the air. You felt the fabric of your shorts clinging to your slick pussy in a way that was both uncomfortable and relieving.

Dexter moved behind you, his hand brushing over your hips, the touch almost gentle before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them down, watching the material stick to your pussy, making his cock twitch in his pants. You squirmed under his fingers as they brushed against the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Jesus, you’re sopping wet. Am I even surprised?” He said, bringing his fingers to your cunt and skimming them along the center from your hole, down to your clit. As he grazed that little spot, you bucked your hips into his hand, only for him to retreat it and bring it down in a swift move, slapping your clit and sending a tingling into your stomach. You moaned, not expecting him to get rough so soon.

Then, he kneeled next to you. You were too afraid to turn your head, but you could see with your periphery vision the tent in his pants. He brought the middle finger and the ring finger of his left hand to your mouth, and you opened without hesitation, wrapping your lips around them as he slid them all the way in. For you, it was awkward from that position, the fingers hooked in the corner of your mouth, forcing it to tilt slightly.

Once he decided that they were wet enough, he removed them and the same arm reached under you, his forearm touching your stomach as his fingers, now slick with your saliva, reached your pussy. They slid between your folds with ease, the two fingers pinching your clit between, before rubbing circles into it.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter with each movement. You squirmed under him, needing more than he was giving you, and he knew that. But when you started moving too much, he slowed, barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Dex,” you whined, your hips moving, trying to chase the friction he was withholding. But his only answer came in a form of a slap to your ass. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, and your hand instinctively let go of the headboard and reached for your cheek in order to sooth the pain. But before you could touch your own skin, his free hand was wrapping around your wrist, holding it high and causing your muscles to strain.

“Don’t make me tie you up. You don’t have time for that.”

You nodded in silent obedience, and you gripped the headboard again, focused on not letting go. His hand was still teasing your clit while his other hand reached from behind and played with your hole, your slickness sticking to his fingers. For a moment, he was enjoying the feeling of it, of you on his fingers. Then he spread the wetness up and over your asshole. He only teased your back entrance, returning to your pussy and plunging his fingers inside, making your grip on the headboard tighten, as well as your walls around his fingers.

Dexter’s fingers worked you expertly, curling upward to hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The movements of both his hands were in sync, the combination driving you to the edge as he upped the pace, relentless and unforgiving his fingers thrusting deeper, while also pinching your clit harder and occasionally grazing a nail over it, sending shivers down your spine.

The room was filled with the sounds of your gasps, Dex’s occasional grunts and most importantly, the squelching sounds of your drenched cunt. You were almost embarrassed by it, and Dexter made sure you felt that shame.

“Listen to yourself. So messy.”

Your response was a broken whine, your body trembling as his fingers curled just right to hit that devastatingly perfect spot again and again and again. His other hand maintained its tormenting rhythm on your clit, switching between sharp pinches and soft, tantalizing circles as your juices dripped from your hole to your clit.

Your knuckles became white from the hold you had on the headboard, your focus on not letting go and letting go at the same time. The pressure pulled you further under, and when he felt you clench around him, he pressed harder, his fingers moving with even more intensity.

“You wanna come?”

“Yes,” you whined, your body shaking with the overwhelming sensations.

“Don’t forget your manners, sweetheart.”

The pressure was unbearable now, your release so close you could taste it.

“Please, can I come?”

“Go ahead.” He growled, his fingers resuming his relentless pace, the wave of pleasure hitting you like a tidal force, crashing through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your body convulsing with the intensity of your climax. Your thighs trembled and your grip on the headboard faltered, but you were quick to remember to hold on, otherwise he wouldn’t let you ride it out.

Dexter worked you through the aftershocks, his fingers slowing but still keeping you riding that high until you were an overstimulated mess beneath him. When he withdrew his hand, you thought he’d give you a moment to gather up, but instead, in a quick motion, he was behind you, spreading your ass and burying his face between your cheeks.

Your body twitched as you felt him press his tongue flat on your puffy clit, shaking his head from side to side before catching it between his lips and sucking on it. The stimulation too much, you even tried to pull away even though you didn't really want to. It was to no use anyway, he followed you and his hands pushed against the small of your back, limiting your movements. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, his nose nudging your wet opening.

The thought of him being this messy alone made you so fucking horny and needy, as if you weren’t at the maximum capacity to feel those things.

Dexter pulled another whine out of you when he tugged on your clit with his lips, pulling back until he let go with a pop.

“You get so fucking sweet when you’re on your on your knees.” He said before returning his tongue to your pussy, running it flat up and down your lips, spreading your cunt and mixing his spit with your juices before he slurped it all up.

Your hand itched to let go of the headboard and cover your pussy to give your swollen clit a rest, but you were afraid of what he might do if you disobeyed again.

Besides, eating you out was his favorite thing in the world, and bad things would happen if you deprived him of his favorite activities.

One time, he’d made you ride him for so long until it was physically impossible for you to lift your ass. He’d proceeded to call you lazy, and had you dared, you would have slapped him.

Now, too much was at stake. He flicked his tongue against your clit repeatedly before finding your entrance and plunging it inside, the wet muscle massaging your walls. He loved your taste, he loved how you squirmed, he loved how slick and sticky you were. And you loved how animalistic he was about it, and how he didn’t care that you were overstimulated.

He dragged his tongue in and out of you, and then finally, it returned to your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot. And the slightly sharp sensation was all it took to send you over the edge again. Your pelvis twitched against him, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass, dragging his nail against you aggressively and leaving red scratch marks behind.

You loved them more than bruises. You could get bruises anywhere, sometimes they appear, and you don’t even know how. That's a common knowledge. But chafed, irritated skin? You know exactly how it gets there. You remember it. It evokes memories.

He hummed against your hot, wet flesh, the vibrations only accelerating your orgasm. You mewled, almost screamed, but you didn’t want to seem overdramatic. Your cum spilled straight into his mouth and he drank it all down as if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. He caught it on his tongue, licking you through the orgasm. Your upper body felt so numb, while down there, it was like fireworks. And when you finally started coming down, he slowed down, laying kisses over your pussy lips and your butt and your thighs. You felt the wetness his mouth left behind, your slick slowly drying on your skin. It was almost comforting, feeling him be so soft. You felt like curling up to him, falling asleep in his embrace.

“Three to go. You think you can make it?” He asked, and you heard him move behind you, followed by the sound of his buckle as he removed his belt.

You looked at the clock. 8:02. You didn’t think you could, but even if you did, it was in his control. He was just manipulating you to think that it was yours. Or he was just mocking you. He knew you weren’t stupid.

“You think you can?”

The leather belt came down on your ass, to the same place he’d slapped before. You made a note about checking out that bruise later.

 “You’re only giving me reasons to spank the shit out of you.” He said, dragging the belt across your ass, before touching the curved part to your pussy. Once it was gone, you waited for Dexter to hit you there too, but the blow never came.

“Let go of the headboard.”

Your brows furrowed, but your confusion quickly disappeared when he hooked the belt around your neck, yanking you upwards, your back against his chest and his clothed cock nestled between your ass cheeks.

You subtly ground against him, making him purr into your ear, which made you smirk. He gripped both ends of the belt in one hand, while his other arm snaked around your waist, his hand slipping under your tank top and squeezing your breast. The way he pinched and tugged on your nipple made you buck into him with more force, and he reciprocated, grinding against you, giving in to his own pleasure. Then his hand disappeared from your body and you heard the sound of him spitting into his palm, before he brought it to your pussy. As if you weren’t completely drenched. He knew you loved how disgusting the thought was. How lewd you felt when he did that.

For him, this was nothing compared to the things he did during his free time.

Then without a warning, he released one end of the belt, causing you to collapse face-first into the bed. He unbuttoned his khaki pants and pulled his cock out before grabbing your arm and turning you on your back.

You finally got a good look at him - strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes dark framed by lashes that looked like he'd used an eyelash curler (something you envied him). You admired him. Not just for his look, though that part was obvious. He knew he had women turning their heads in his direction. But they didn’t know the brilliant mind beneath it all. He was so clever, so undeniably smart, and that was what truly excited you. That a neat man with a compartmentalized brain like his could get so messy when it came to sex. Like now, all sweaty, his cock leaking onto the sheets. Some of the precum probably landed on your cunt too. The thought alone sent another wave of pleasure building deep in your abdomen.

He leaned down, his tongue flicking into your pussy in one swift motion before crawling over you and capturing your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing firmly against your pulse point, making you aware of how fast your heart was pounding. You moaned into his mouth as he applied a touch more pressure for a split second, giving him the chance to slide his tongue deeper into your mouth. You sucked on it, tasting the tanginess that he'd collected from your lower lips.

Without warning, with just a sublte shift of his hips, he was inside you. A low moan escaped him as he felt the tightness of your walls, and you let out a soft whimper at the stretch. He didn’t move at first. He kept kissing you and his hand slid down your body, squeezing your boob again, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Lowering his head, he wrapped his mouth around your sensitive peak, sucking gently on your tit. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, pulling him closer.

His teeth grazed your sensitive nub, sending a jolt through you, and in one fluid motion, his arm snaked beneath you, lifting and sitting up as he pulled you onto his lap. He started thrusting his hips into you, holding you in place, his cock gliding effortlessly along your slick walls.

Leaning forward, his lips found your other breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your nipple before his mouth opened wide, taking in as much of your soft flesh as he could. You arched against him, your back curving as your hads pressed his face closer, your head tipping back in ecstasy.

He kept on fucking you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you dizzy. He drove his cock into you, quickening the pace, a sign that he was getting close. His arms around you tightened and then suddenly, you felt a sharp pain originating in your breast and going straight to your pussy, making you clench around. He was fucking you hard and deep, and when you looked down, you saw him still latched onto your tit, his upper lip covered in crimson.

You felt the sting from the way he was sucking on you, and when he finally removed his lips from your breast, you saw red drops dripping down your breast, the blood leaking from the bite marks where his upper teeth sank into your skin. You were mesmerized by it, and you wanted more. You pushed his face back against your sore nipple and Dexter surprisingly didn’t argue. He licked the blood off you and sucked again while ramming into you. Your body shuddered, and finally your third finish was brought on by a couple of additional thrusts of his hips. Then he laid you flat on the bed and chased his own release. You pulled him up by the chin, meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you hard and fast until he spilled inside of you.

Once you both came down, he was lying on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him affectionately, because you were so content that he was there with you.

But you were yanked out of your dreamland when he rose to his feet, making your brows furrow.

“That was only three,” your tone couldn't be more confused, as he headed to the bathroom.

“Yeah, but I need to shower and pick new clothes to wear. Can’t go to work with your cum all over my pants.” He came back to the bedroom with a smile on his face, as if he just hadn’t fucked the shit out of you. “Last one’s on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes. Make yourself cum before I leave. If you don’t, you know the consequences.”

He gave you a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom.

Asshole. He knew you’d lost the ability to make yourself cum shortly after you’d started sleeping together. But luckily, you had your stash of toys that might help you with your problem.

With the roll of your eyes, you rolled over and reached into your nightstand, but in that moment, he peeked from around the corner.

“Oh, and your hands only.”

“What? That’s not fair!”

His face dropped again.

“You want to tell me what’s fair and what isn’t?”

You slammed the drawer shut and fell on your back, your body bouncing on the soft bed.

“Good girl. And no cheating. I’ll keep the door open. If I so much as hear something else that isn’t your fucking scream, I swear you’ll have to work your ass off to make me let you come ever again. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

You hadn’t done this in a long time. It almost felt unnatural. But despite that, your fingers dropped to your clit, and you began pushing yourself over another edge. Or at least you tried. But it was pointless. You tried to squeeze your wounded breast to get that rush going, but it didn’t have that effect this time. It only made you sweaty.

He managed to finish his shower before you made yourself orgasm, obviously. When he entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist, he looked at you with feigned pity.

“Aww… Don’t tell me my baby needs a manual to get herself off.”

“Dex, come on. You know I can’t make myself orgasm,” you tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t going to budge.

“I can’t do two things at once, I’m only one person,” he argued, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “This is for your own good. I gave you an opportunity to make it to four before I have to leave. It’s not my fault you’re not capable.”

You huffed, bringing your fingers to your pussy again, stuffing them inside yourself and trying to fuck yourself, but again, to no avail.

He even laughed at you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him already with his work bag slung over his shoulder, hands casually tucked in his pocket. You’d lost.

“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. So desperate. It’s like your world has been destroyed.”

“It kinda has.”

He came to your side of your bed where you were still lying with your hand between your legs. He leaned over you, brushing the hair that stuck to your forehead and placing a soft kiss there.

“Take that as a lesson. You shouldn’t take a bait if you can’t handle the hook.”

And with that he turned on his heel and left, leaving you wrecked and messy, the most agonizing four weeks of your life just now beginning.

a/n2: i'm thinking it's kinda more vanilla than i intended it to be, but oh well... thank you for reading!!

[just-mary-ann]

I DON'T HAVE SELF CONTROL!

Harlequin swap AU by: @tadc-harlequin-au

Based on the draft of me and @mrs-nightshade

Honorable mention: @thore-lb

Lavender

Pomni and Caine sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Their coffee preferences differed—not that they needed coffee—but indulging in such a human ritual allowed them to feel alive, if only for about ten minutes.

"I didn’t see Able this morning," Caine remarked, inspecting his top hat before placing it back on his head.

"He hasn’t returned from the fighting ring yet," Pomni replied, stirring her coffee slowly.

"The fighting ring?" Caine tilted his head, mimicking the gesture of a raised eyebrow.

"The first rule is not to talk about it, so that’s all you’ll get from me," Pomni chuckled.

Suddenly, they heard a grumble. Able entered, exuding irritation.

"I’m back," he muttered, heading straight for the coffee machine.

"You look exhausted, brother," Caine slid a clean mug toward him. As expected, Able caught it effortlessly. "Don’t tell me you lost?"

"Bite your tongue, detachable jaw," Able retorted, pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting beside Caine. "I found out who my 'secret admirer' is."

"You mean that fanatic who’s been staring holes through you at the fights for the past month?" Pomni leaned forward.

"She’s so persistent I could physically feel her gaze," Able ran a hand over his head. "You’ll never guess who she is."

"Oh, let me guess—a dainty little statuette who’s bored of high society and fell for a bad boy," Pomni waved her hand sarcastically.

"Your sister," Able replied, waiting for Pomni to meet his gaze. "Lilac."

"Pomni has a sister?" Caine was genuinely shocked.

"Not just a sister—a twin," Able explained.

"No way. Lilac is a 'proper lady.' I refuse to believe she’d attend a fight," Pomni nervously started stuffing herbs into her pipe.

"Believe it. I’d recognize her Harlequin design anywhere. How many Harlequin puppets do you know?" Able sighed.

"Excuse me, but could someone explain how Pomni has a twin sister?" Caine interjected.

Pomni and Able exchanged glances.

"When a man and a woman love each other, they can create new life," Pomni began with a smile.

"Th-that’s not what I meant!" Caine facepalmed. "I mean, why hasn’t anyone mentioned her all this time I’ve been living in the bunker?"

"There wasn’t a need to," Pomni leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "My sister and I haven’t spoken since she gained full consciousness. I’m not even sure she knows where the bunker is. I did try convincing her to move here, but even after enlightenment, she chose to stay with her human owner."

"A puppet willingly serving a human?" Caine mused.

"Can we drop the subject?" Able stood up from the table. "Her voice is so sweet it’s practically cavity-inducing. I’d rather not think about it anymore."

The day passed quickly, and soon it was night. Able prepared to leave for the fighting ring again.

"Able," Caine stopped him. "Listen. Can I come with you tonight? I’m really curious to see how you fight other puppets."

Able chuckled.

"What? Losing to me wasn’t enough for you?"

"Our match was a tie. We’re evenly matched in strength," Caine crossed his arms.

"Fine. No harm in having one more spectator. Let’s go."

Caine enjoyed watching his brother fight, though the crowd's noise made him uncomfortable.

"His stance is solid. His punches are professional. It’s clear this isn’t just fighting for him—it’s a sport," Caine muttered to himself.

"YES! GO, ABLE! YOU’RE AMAZING UNDER THE RING LIGHTS!"

Caine turned toward the feminine voice. Beside him stood a puppet woman. Her long black hair was styled in elegant curls, gathered into a loose updo. She wore a floor-length lavender gown with closed shoulders and long sleeves, adorned with ruffles and lavender embroidery. She completed the look with mesh gloves and a parasol hanging from her elbow. The puppet applauded enthusiastically with every blow Able landed.

Suddenly, realization hit Caine.

"Lilac?"

"Hm?" The puppet turned to him. "Do we know each other?"

"Not personally. I’m a friend of Pomni and Able. Caine."

"Oh, a friend of my sister. And my darling Able? Well, hello there. I’m Lilac, the Lavender Harlequin. Come to watch the fight?"

"Yes. But I won’t stay for the rest of the evening. Once Able is done, we’re heading home."

Able’s opponent suddenly landed a hit on his shoulder. His arm went limp.

"Looks like a shoulder joint injury," Caine winced at the thought of the pain his brother must be feeling. "We’ll need to replace it."

"You... can repair puppets?" Lilac clutched her parasol tightly.

"Both Able and I know how to repair and create puppets. I can’t recall where I learned, but it doesn’t change the fact that we often spend time in the workshop."

"Create... puppets..." Lilac clung to his words.

Despite his injury, Able secured a victory. As they left the club, Able suddenly cracked his shoulder back into place, restoring its movement.

"Ah, so it was a dislocation, not a break?" Caine asked.

"Did you think a weak hit like that could hurt me?" Able teased.

"Darling Able!" Lilac hurried after them, slightly out of breath. "You’re so fast, and I’m in heels!"

"Ugh. Lilac," Able averted his gaze. "What do you want this time?"

"Caine said you can create puppets. Is that true?"

Able shot a glare at his brother.

"So what if it is?"

"That means... you can create one from scratch?" Lilac fidgeted with her parasol.

Able froze.

"So what?" he repeated.

"My owner, Lady Melissa," Lilac’s voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes. "She’s gravely ill. No medicine helps her. Please, I beg you, help her." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Can you turn her into a puppet?"

Able hadn’t expected such a request. Usually, Lilac would shower him with compliments and hint at a date. But now, she seemed... desperate and hopeless.

"Ugh," Able sighed. "To be honest, yes, I can build her a body." Lilac’s face lit up with hope. "But a mechanical body is just a shell. Without a soul, it’s useless. I don’t have the knowledge or skills to transfer her soul from a living body to a mechanical one." He turned and began walking toward the bunker. "If I could help, I would. But as it stands..." Able glanced back at her. "Pray for the best outcome."

Caine felt sorry for Lilac. She stood frozen, as if rooted to the spot, her tears abruptly stopping. Without a word, Caine followed his brother.

To be continued