#i stand by that so many of y'all would like this fic you just need to get the courage to start it already

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

if u watched bones and all and liked it you should definitely read my fic because the latter half of it takes heavy heavy inspiration from that film both visually and thematically

[pedroshotwifey]

Should've Stayed Bored

Please understand that this is a crack fic based on this post by @bonezone44 and the comments made by @covetyou on said post ) Also tagging other commenters on that post: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog snowflake-blog@bubble-pop-eclectic @lunitawrites

Pairing: Chump!Joel Miller × fem!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: Joel Miller NOT being a sex god, left flap rubbing, mention of the clit, piv sex (if you could call it that), premature ejaculation, age gap, dad's buddy!joel miller, bad make out sessions, misplaced confidence, secondhand embarrassment, crack fic

Summary: You really need to learn to lower your expectations.

A/N: I actually had a great time writing this and think it turned out really fucking funny.

A/N pt. 2: Well, the og post got fucking deleted, but here it is again. Fucking pissed. I would really appreciate any interaction even if you already did the first time just so I can get it back out there </3

special thanks to @romanarose, @wannab-urs, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, and everyone else who helped me calm my tits and post this again. Love y'all ❤

*****

You’re bored out of your fucking mind. You’ve had four drinks and have walked in and out of the house probably a dozen times. For a neighborhood barbeque, it’s uneventful as hell. You would think that there would at least be a few interesting people out of so many. But no. So far there’s a group of old ladies gathered around the pool in sun chairs, their husbands around the grill talking about sports, and some kids—probably grandkids—running rampant around the yard. 

That’s what your dad gets for moving into a retiree neighborhood. There’s only a few other households you know of that don’t host couples in their late sixties. Kind of like, speak of the devil, the Millers, who are walking in through the yard gate right now. 

It’s only the two of them—Joel and his daughter, Sarah, who is only about eight. She runs off to go play with the other kids and you smile as you spot Joel struggling to carry a bowl and latch the gate back at the same time. You immediately take the opportunity to walk toward him. 

You’ve always had your eyes on Joel Miller, even though he’s only a few years younger than your father. He’s a DILF in all ways that count. Sweet, responsible, and hot as hell. 

“Hey, Mr. Miller,” you grab his attention as you reach where he’s still trying to balance everything. His face lights up when he sees you coming to help. 

“Hey, darlin’, you don’t mind helpin’ me with this, do ya?” he nods his head to the gate. 

“Nope, not at all,” you say sweetly as you get the gate latched behind him. He beams at you as he shifts to hold his dish with both hands. It looks heavy. 

“Thank you. And please, call me Joel.” He flashes you a wink that makes your stomach flutter before he starts for the back door. 

With nothing better to do, you follow him inside. He’s putting his bowl in the fridge when you close the door behind you and take a spot leaning against the counter. There’s nobody else inside right now, and you realize you might have just found your cure for boredom. 

You slide up next to Joel as he stands up. 

“What did you bring, Mr. Miller?” you ask him in an over the top sweet voice. 

He shoots you a pointed look and takes a step back to put a few inches between the two of you. 

“Potato salad,” he says flatly. “And please, it’s just Joel.” 

“Well, Joel,” you take a step toward him again. “I’m bored.” 

You swear you see him gulp, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. He glances out the window, probably looking for your dad manning the grill. 

“Darlin’,” he says in warning. “I’m sure you can find something out there to do.” 

You pout at him. “But I found something to do in here.” 

“Honey, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” you banter. “You don’t want to fuck me, Joel? I see the way you look at me.” 

He surges forward, trapping you against the counter. You smile wildly at him and throw your arms around his neck. 

“Get your ass upstairs, now,” he growls. “Strip and wait on your bed.” 

Your pussy flutters at his command, excitement building in your stomach. 

“Yes, Mr. Miller. Don’t be long.” You flash him a wink and slide from in front of him to make your way upstairs. You feel his eyes on you until you reach the top step. 

He only waits a little while, presumably to cover his bases so it doesn’t look like he’s sneaking off with his friend’s much-too-young daughter, before following you up. And by that time, you’re already naked and sitting on your bed. 

He comes in and shuts the door behind him, making sure it’s locked tightly before turning around. Your eyes go to the massive tent in his pants, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. 

“You’re fuckin gorgeous, darlin’,” he says as he takes a step toward you, already starting to unbuckle his jeans. He pulls his heavy cock out and your lips part. You’d expected him to be big, but holy shit.

“C’mon, baby, lay back for me.” 

You let him push you down on your back, and then scootch up a bit so that you’re resting with your head on the pillows. Your body is practically humming with excitement and need. Being with an older man has always been something high up on your bucket list, because there’s no doubt they know how to properly pleasure a woman. And a man like Joel Miller…you can’t fucking wait. 

He leans over you and takes your lips in a sloppy kiss. You wind your arms around him and arch your back, begging silently for him to touch you already. He slips his tongue inside your mouth, and your eyes widen. 

He’s just…licking. 

You find it really hot when a man uses his tongue to make out with you, but. Not like this. You rear your head back, trying to gain control of the kiss. But then his hand starts to trail down to your center and you decide, whatever, you can pick and choose your battles. You’ll let him do whatever the fuck he thinks he’s doing to your mouth as long as he gets those thick fingers inside of you already. 

He trails down, down, oh, there, he pets your clit and you shiver, and then—

Then he continues down…and to the left. 

He starts rubbing circles on your left flap, and you furrow your brows. 

What the actual fuck?? 

You unwind your arms and start pushing on his chest until he pulls his tongue from your mouth to gaze down at you. 

“Joel, you—” 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that, don’t you, baby?” 

You just blink at him. What?

He winks at you. “I know, darlin’, feels real good, huh?” He dips back down to start kissing you again, thankfully leaving his damn tongue out of it. His fingers increase pressure, which you can only guess would feel really good if he was actually rubbing your clit. 

“Joel,” you mutter against his lips again, but it comes out smushed and smothered. Kind of like your poor pussy right now. Or the outside of it, at least. 

“So impatient,” he laughs. “Hold on one second, baby, Mr. Miller’s got you.” 

You resist the urge to cringe at that. 

He taps your abused pussy lip twice and retracts his hand to grasp his cock, which you’re now worried about. Hopefully he knows how to fucking use that thing. He guides his tip to your entrance—or tries to, rather, and you groan in defeat. He rubs it up and down your slit, prodding every second or so. 

“Yeah, baby, fuckin’ love those sounds you make for me.” 

You just stare at him. You’re not going to even pretend. This is just insane. How the hell did he actually make a kid??

Finally, he finds your hole—the right one, thank god—and starts to push in. You’re still pretty wet from earlier, though you’re sure there will be no developments in that department. Thankfully, it’s enough to ease the stuttering glide. 

Once he’s fully in, he starts to thrust, and you grip on to him, holding on to that last hope that maybe he can nail your g-spot with that weapon of his. 

“M…Feel so g-good, baby,” Joel moans. 

He thrusts once, twice, three times, moaning like a fucking animal. 

And then he pulls out. And shakes above you as he spills his cum on your lower belly. 

You stare at him in shock as he rolls over and collapses beside you. His eyes are closed as he pants and reaches a hand over you to touch your stomach. 

“You came?” he asks. 

You consider lying to him, but figure he doesn’t deserve that. 

“No, Joel, I did not fucking come.” 

“Oh, okay. Tha’s alright. Get you next time.” 

You sit up and gape at him. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

He looks at you with confusion but gets up after a moment. He yawns, tucks himself into his pants, and struts for your door. 

“Don’t be ashamed to ask for more, darlin’. I wouldn’t be opposed to doin’ this again sometime.” He sends you a wink and walks out of the room before you get the chance to say something you’ll regret more than whatever the fuck just happened. 

You learned a valuabale lesson today: age really does not fucking matter. 

[mmhcs]

Miguel O'Hara x Tall!Reader

A/N: (I haven't seen many fics covering this topic so I thought that I'd throw my hat in the ring today). This is dedicated to all the tall girls out there! Y'all are beautiful and amazing!

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but mostly SFW focus on legs, reader is female(if you'd like to see a gender-neutral version, please let me know!), reader is described as having a curvier lower body (only at one point, though), Miguel is absolutely head-over-heels for reader (pun-intended!)

Okay, y'all. Look at this man. He is 6'9". Big. Very big. Often times, he's the biggest person in the room. Tall and intimidating. And while he likes that (he is the big, scary boss. Hear him roar!), there are times in which he wishes that there was somebody who could relate to him. Like, do you know how hard it is to find shoes at 6'9"?

Now, don't get him wrong, Miguel loves women of all shapes and sizes. Short, tall, average height, skinny, chubby - he doesn't care. But when he saw you? It was like he had a spiritual awakening. Seeing you walk down the hallways of the Spider Society, suit hugging your curves...It did something to him.

Especially when he saw the mold of your legs. For the first time in a long time, Miguel felt himself getting a little nervous. Never had he seen another Spider dominate the room like you did. During your first few days, people used to stare whenever you entered the room - not out of fear as they did with him - but out of awe. You were gorgeous but your height - it just took you over the top.

From your first day forward, all Miguel would hear about is you.

"Did you see the new Spider?" "Yeah, she's really tall! What do you think she does in her professional life? Model?" "Oh my gosh, look at her! She looks good in that suit!"

Whenever you and Miguel would have conversations, he found it hard to focus. First, you have a stunning face but those legs? Oh, he was a goner. Though he had only seen you with in your Spider-suit, Miguel couldn't help but take a liking to your legs. Your thighs, though comprised of muscle - jiggled when you walked, and your calves looked as firm as his demeanor on a bad morning. Miguel had never had a thing for legs before (or at least not to his knowledge) but now he found himself fascinated by your legs and their length and angles. He could spend days worshipping the curvature between your calves and thighs.

When Miguel finally does see you out of uniform? He needs to leave the room. Don't ask why, he just does.

When you two finally start dating, Miguel can't take his eyes off of you. All he can do is stare (mainly at your legs) and thank Padre Dios that he managed to pull you into his life.

But, while what initially made you stand out to Miguel was your height, it actually doesn't play that big of a role in your relationship. As time goes on and lust simmers into love, you and Miguel are just a regular couple.

Though he doesn't spend much time in his home (or didn't until you), Miguel's space is tailor-made for him. Meaning chairs, couches, tables, and shelves big and high enough to accommodate him and his height. While a small thing to note, he's glad that he finally has someone doesn't find issue with it all.

Miguel is aware of the of the stereotypes and jabs thrown at girls of your stature and so he does his best to constantly remind you that you are beautiful, attractive, feminine, etc.

If you're shorter than him (doesn't even matter if it's an inch), he likes to crack short jokes with you here and there.

"Bebita, come look at this!" Miguel yells from his in front of your bedroom's television. "What is it, Miguel?" you ask, peaking your head out of the bathroom. "They say it's going to be windy today," He juts his chin towards the TV screen before refocusing on tying his tie. "Take precaution." "Miguel," you scoff. "What? I don't want you getting swept up by the wind." "Okay, firstly, you know damn well-"

If you're taller than him, Miguel also has jokes for that.

"Bebita, could you please pass me that plate over there?" Miguel asks, pointing his chin at a cabinet shelf that is directly at eye level with him. "Miguel," you give him a pointed look. He shrugs at you, continuing to wash the dishes. "Hey, don't put things up so high if you don't want me to ask you to get them." (For the next week, you started putting all the dishes in the bottom drawer)

The jokes, however, are only reserved for him. If anyone else makes a joke about your height, Miguel gets upset. Just ask Hobie. One time, Hobie asked you how you couldn't tell him what the weather was like from up there (all in good fun) and Miguel, who had no context of the conversation and walked in at the wrong time almost crucified him.

Miguel secretly loves how you two look together. As the head of the Spider Society (again, he likes to be the big, scary boss man), he enjoys the presence that you two create together. Domineering, commanding. Whether you two are in uniform or formal clothing - when you two talk, people listen.

If you work out, Miguel loves to go to the gym with you. Not only because he likes to see you in workout gear (though trust him, that is a very, very, very big plus) but because he finally has somebody who understands the struggle of putting on (visible) muscle.

Miguel loves kisses with you. He's always been very big physical touch in relationships but never before has it been so easy to just steal a kiss. And so, it has been become his favorite pastime.

Miguel loves to see you in dresses and shorts and heels. Anything that accentuates your height. Sometimes when you come home, you see a dress or a new pair of shoes that you've been wanting. However, other times, you find an article of clothing or shoes from a brand that you didn't even know existed. But if it's jeans or a maxi dress, they always cover your legs, if it's a regular shirt, your stomach isn't exposed, and whatever it is always looks good on you.

Sometimes when cuddling, Miguel will just start tracing and/or kneading random parts of your body because there's just so much of you to love and he doesn't know where to start.

At the end of each and every day, no matter if you're taller or shorter than him, Miguel likes to make you feel safe and protected. He likes to play the role of protector/provider and makes you feel taken care of and comfortable.

Bonus: "Your children are going to be some stallions, ain't they?" Hobie says, looking between you and Miguel. You laugh but Miguel glares at him with a scowl that would make most start running for the hills. "Stallions, eh?" you repeat later that night, in bed with him. While not a fan of you slowly assimilating to Hobie's humor, Miguel chuckles dryly and pulls you closer to him. "Indeed," he says, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

[manicpixiefelix]

love the hand that feeds you {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

One-Shot for head, heart, hand. but can be read as a stand-alone.

Summary: Everyone's always called you Felix's Dog. Felix has always had a problem with this. You've always wished that he didn't. Oliver's never been much of a cat person anyways.

Need to Know: They/Them. NB!Reader. Oliver's POV. Set after the Summer at Saltburn but with a happy, poly ending. Established Felix/Reader/Oliver. Reader's AGAB/sex is never made explicitly clear so hopefully all of y'all can enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with plot. Pet play, obviously. Demeaning language (dog is the main one, obviously), oral, threesome, unprotected sex, d/s dynamics (all three of you go back and forth but there's mostly Dominant!Oliver), teasing, praise kink (and praise kink by proxy), pet names (ha). Felix & Reader being horny puppies who love Oliver Quick (and each other) very much.

A/N: 9494 words. i told my girlfriend about this fic and how long it is and she said 'at that point is it a oneshot or a cry for help' and idk man it's definitely a cry for something 👀

----

It starts because Felix likes having his hair played with.

Actually, it starts the week before with you, drunk and giggling at a house party, playing with the chain Oliver's always wearing with more fascination than usual, when you admit that Venetia once bought you a collar. Of course you provide the caveat that it was more to piss Felix off, which it had, and that it had been thrown into the fire before you ever got to wear it. Oliver, who'd been watching Felix playing beer pong across the room, has to take a moment to process what you'd said.

"Wish she didn't make it all weird," you sighed a little forlornly, and you give the chain a faint tug, "I'm such a good dog, everyone says so," then you huffed a faint, flustered laugh, "not everyone. Not you and Fi, you guys are lovely, but sometimes I am a bit like a dog; I'm okay with that."

In the next moment you're humming along to whatever trashy pop is playing, and Oliver's pretty sure you've already forgotten what you'd just said, but even in his own state of inebriation, he can't.

The next day, on one of the many lawns across Oxford's beautiful campus, Oliver's sitting with Felix's head in his lap, fingers running through his hair as you and Felix are brainstorming gifts for Venetia's upcoming birthday. Felix has his eyes closed, enjoying the warm afternoon and the sensation of Oliver's gentle petting, while you're splayed out on the grass beside them both, focusing on your notebook.

Yes, you've always been a good dog, but you'd been well trained; the more Oliver thinks about it, the more he finds himself also drawing comparisons between Felix and an excitable, affectionate, pampered pup himself. But there was potential there, Oliver could see it clear as day.

So he'd started to come up with a plan. A simple plan, thankfully; knowing you both it wouldn't require anything too complicated, it wouldn't be particularly manipulative. At least not maliciously.

A simple, two step plan to show the impossibly beautiful, rich, loving heirs how much he loved and appreciated them for all their qualities, especially the dog-like ones, in certain circumstances. Really it's not even his idea; Felix's whole family had drawn the comparison with you before it had even really occurred to him. He couldn't be blamed for being intrigued about following it to its logical end, and showing you both it's not the negative it usually comes across as. At least, that's how he phrases it in his mind when he's justifying it to himself.

And if he thinks you and Felix would both look pretty in a collar, well that's just a perk he keeps to himself.

The first step is submission.

All three of you fluctuated between dominance and submission on any given day, an enthusiastic ebb and flow of control amongst the three of you, in every combination imaginable. Except Felix seems unable to fully commit himself to submitting to Oliver alone; oh he plays along without hesitation, will get on his knees for Oliver at the slightest firm tone, but he always seems more thrilled knowing your hand is on his metaphorical leash.

So Oliver takes his time figuring out what exactly will make Felix long for Oliver's hand on his throat. The solution is shockingly simple.

Praise.

It couldn't be just any praise. He'd lived his life hearing sweet words about how good he looks, or how lovely he was, it had to be deeper than that. Praise only you or Oliver could give, praise that he craved to hear, praise for the parts of himself he quietly put effort into.

Praise for being helpful, for being diligent, for being caring and genuinely thoughtful to the two of you, for being good.

"God, you're so good to me, Felix," Oliver groans in the bathroom of a house party, back pressed against the door while Felix was on his knees, Oliver's cock in his mouth. When Oliver looks down, sees Felix with a faint blush on his cheeks that's far sweeter than the rest of the debauchery of their situation, Oliver cards a hand through his hair, giving him a look that radiated just as much love as he felt for the man himself, "always so fuckin' good to me," he murmurs this time.

Felix, now bright red, all kinds of flustered, pulls back for half a second, unable to fight back a smile as he swears under his breath, but Oliver's hand in his hair tightens. Felix eyes flutter closed as Oliver, tone on his voice like a warning, tells Felix that he didn't say stop.

And Felix seems more than delighted to obey, to be as good to Oliver as he'd just been deemed.

Praise like this always made Felix all smitten and obedient and eager to please. Of course Oliver had always been quick to praise Felix, but this was different, was concentrated and specific. Once Oliver had started with these efforts, Felix seemed to grow more relaxed and eager to let Oliver become dominant over him when the mood struck him, even without the specific praise. Though the praise always helped.

The second step is acceptance.

Considering everything that had happened at Saltburn - the voyeuristic games you'd played with Oliver, the adventurous ways and places in which you and Felix would fuck, the handjob you'd given him after you caught him drinking the bath water that Felix had gotten off into that ended with you also managing to come untouched while Oliver moaned Felix's name in your ear, just to name a few - Oliver knew your sex lives would be more than a little kinky before he even officially joined this relationship. He was not disappointed.

Both you and Felix seemed more than willing to try anything, though Oliver was delighted to discover just how much you'd both already done, and were more than eager to do again.

All this to say that pet play was barely a step removed from roleplay, so he shouldn't have been surprised that you jump at the chance. At first it stays between you and Oliver, for obvious reasons that have everything to do with Felix's hangups about the derogatory way other people had often called you a dog. But when Oliver calls you 'pretty pup' for the first time, you react just the same way Felix does when praised.

Flustered. Bashful. Obedient.

Except Oliver quickly learns that you react far stronger than Felix. It seems not only were you telling the truth about being okay with the title, simply hearing it said so lovingly by Oliver, even in the most innocent situations, was enough to turn you on. It was validation you so desperately wanted, craved, your efforts and constant place by their side acknowledged and appreciated. There are times even when you're in control where you demand praise, and the words slip out.

"You're a good dog," Oliver gasps out, your legs over his shoulders, his head between your thighs. A pleased noises rumbles from somewhere in your chest and you laugh low and heady.

"You're fucking lucky to have a dog like me, Oliver Quick," comes out all lazy and confident, but his nose of agreement isn't enough for you, clearly, as your thighs momentarily tighten around him, trapping him, and he feels one of your heels press insistently against his back, "aren't you lucky," you say pointedly, warning in your voice, "to have such a good dog?" Echoing your words in agreement, they come out sounding like a breathless prayer, one he's eager to chant to see the heady, powerful smile you wear when you hear it.

Fuck he feels dizzy with lust in this moment, desperate to devour you, have his mouth on you, like his life depends on it, hoping you'll grant him the chance to fuck you - there's something about you in control that will always drive Oliver utterly mad. Actually, no matter the situation or who's in control, knowing you and Felix continue to want him, love him, choose him to share these moments with... sometimes he still can't believe he got here in the end.

He never thought he'd hear you beg, let alone for him. It's like fucking music.

When he's got you like this, under him, desperate, eager to please, mind a messy haze caught up in this fantasy being played out with you as his perfect pup - so good, so loyal, fuck you're precious, pet - where he can do or say practically anything to you, where you want him to.

"Fuck I love how pathetic you sound, pet," he mumbled into your ear, pressed against you, thrusting slow and deep, "can't even form a proper thought, can you?" He teases. Your hips stutter up into his in an inconsistent rhythm, desperate. Chiding you for it, he sits back, even as a disappointed mewl escapes you. As if moving out of instinct, you reach out, as if to try and pull him back in, and your fingers catch on the chain he still wears around his neck.

"Drop it," he orders immediately, to which you let go as if the metal had burned you. However, Oliver can feel you clench around his cock, hips rolling, pressing close to him, instinctively, "good dog," he purred, pleased, deciding to reward you by finally fucking you with intent.

So it's not you who still has to come to accept this concept. But Oliver's fairly confident you will be the main reason when Felix does come to accept it. In fact, he doesn't even bring the concept up to Felix himself; he knows you well enough that it will only be a matter of time.

It doesn't take long.

One night at the club, all three of you drunk and feeling indulgent under the lights and haze, you hear a resentful -

"Felix really can't go anywhere without his dog -"

You have to hold Felix back from searching for the girl who said it to start shouting at her, assuring him it's fine, but Oliver then has to drag you both of the dancefloor when you start unexpectedly arguing with each other. He actually genuinely can't pick exactly what the argument is about until he's got you both in one of the marginally quieter side rooms, you and Felix still arguing animatedly -

"- shouldn't even be talking about you like that, they don't even know you -" Felix snapped, while you stepped up into his space, having him in the chest.

"When the fuck have I ever cared what anyone but you thinks of me?!"

"I don't think of you as my dog!"

"How many times do I have to say that I don't mind being called your dog before you figure out that maybe I want you to call me that?!" You glare up at him, watching the confusion and mixed emotions about the idea pass over his face in rapid succession, "I'm getting sick of you taking issue with the title, and refusing to understand why I don't; am I not every fucking thing the perfect dog is to you? I am loyal," with each descriptor you gave an instant push against his chest, as if to punctuate each point, "diligent, protective, you know I'd follow you to hell and back, it makes me happy to make you happy, and yes, Felix, just like a dog, I can be obedient," Felix's gaze is shocked as you lay it all out before him. Your voice lowers, Oliver can barely hear you over the music in the next room, "but unlike a dog, I was not trained to love you, to stick by you like I do; that is a choice I made. That is a choice I continue to make happily every single day of my life. Every other asshole who calls me a dog can see it, most of them are fucking jealous because I am the one you choose to keep by your side. Why would I ever take issue with being called that? What do I have to be jealous of? I am the dog, Felix Catton, and I am yours."

It's... reductive, Oliver thinks, but it has to be to get your point across, so he keeps that to himself. He knows all too well how old this sore spot is between you two, far older than his place in your relationship. Perhaps if things hadn't worked out quite so well for him, or if he weren't so secure in his relationship with you both, perhaps he'd worry, be jealous of how you're speaking once more like you and Felix only have each other. But her knows you're not, knows that you're speaking to the version of Felix who can't let go of his discomfort at the title's implications. Part of Felix would always listen to you above all others, even Oliver, but Oliver himself had in part fallen for the way you two loved each other, he lives seeing that connection still strong, bright and alive, and knowing that you've both still chosen to love him too.

Felix, a few feet away, looks suddenly conflicted, almost upset as he tries to process and reconcile your words. However, when Felix can't seem to give a proper reaction, a look of disappointment crosses over your face, and you turn sharply, stalking from the room, from the club entirely.

"It still feels demeaning to them," Felix has been sulking the entire walk back to campus, he and Oliver having left not too long after you. Oliver bites his tongue on the fact that he knows you get off on being demeaned in the right circumstances; Felix is off course aware of this, but not the true extent. Instead, all Oliver offers is a non-committal hum. Felix pouts, still mostly talking to himself, "'s rude," he mumbled, "'s a mean thing to call someone; dog..." Though it sounds almost like a question.

"So you'd be mad if someone called you Y/N's dog?" Oliver says with a surprising amount of casualness considering he has no idea where his boldness came from. Beside him, Felix goes very quiet. Oliver pointedly doesn't look at him.

"That's different," Felix finally managed after several long, strained moments in which he'd thoroughly considered Oliver's words. Except Felix hasn't managed to sound nearly as casual as Oliver, the poor boy sounds rather abashed at the thought, though he still tries to play it off, albeit unsuccessfully, "Ollie, that's- that's completely different."

"How's it different?" Oliver needles him subtly, still giving Felix a modicum of privacy from his ever watchful eyes.

"Because it is," Felix insists, before blurring out - "because it's never happened!"

When Oliver finally looks over at Felix, he keeps his expression just on the positive side of neutral, only to be met with the sight of Felix, wide eyed, and faintly flush. Oliver blinks.

"But you are," he says easily. Felix's lips press into a thin line, face turning steadily darker with his blush as he finally stops walking. Oliver can read the 'the fuck do you mean by that?' all across Felix's flustered, intoxicated features before the man can even open his mouth to ask, so Oliver stops walking too, elaborating without hesitation, "if we're going by Y/N's metrics for what a good dog is, aren't you one too?"

This conversation was completely unexpected for Oliver too, despite how he was the one who pushed it in this direction. Beautiful, expressive Felix is already growing less tense as he turns the thoughts over in his mind. Oliver, eager to help him along on his path to acceptance, reiterates the values you'd laid out in the club -

"Loyal, diligent, protective," he lists easily, "you know you'd follow them anywhere, and do anything to make them happy," he doesn't have to say that Felix can be obedient to you to know they're both thinking it. Instead, Oliver shrugs, "but you're Felix Catton, of course no-ones going to call you a dog."

"What?" Felix's deliberation finally gives way in the face of confusion.

"Everyone knows Y/N loves you, but they don't want to think about you loving Y/N back."

"But I do," Felix's soft voice sounds so hurt by the very idea, "everyone knows I do." Oliver's own expression softens as he steps forward. Felix's brow creases in what can only be described as disappointed confusion.

"I know," he assures smoothly, "that's other people's problem, its not fair on either of you." Oliver's hand is gentle on Felix's shoulder, but Felix is still clearly bothered, even as they start walking again.

"Maybe that's why it bothered you so much," Oliver finally speaks again when they're back on campus. Felix doesn't speak, but does look to Oliver with an expression of clear confusion, "because you didn't like the idea of people thinking Y/N loved you more than you loved them." After a moment, Felix sighs, making a faint, disappointed hum of agreement.

"Did you think that?" Felix asked softly after a moment, "before you really knew us, is that what you thought of us too?" He sounds almost disappointed at the thought. Oliver, however, has to fight back a smile.

"Not even for a fuckin' second," he admits with a sharp laugh, and Felix immediately perks up with intrigue and something almost like relief, though Oliver's tone is amused as he continues, "I honestly couldn't believe no-one else could see it; never seen anyone quite so dedicated to taking care of their dog as Y/N was to looking out for you."

Felix turns bright red once more, but he's wearing that big, bashful grin Oliver's always loved.

"I am, aren't I?" Felix sounds almost giddy at the thought. Oliver feels like there's fireworks going off in his chest.

"Y/N really can't go anywhere without their dog either," Oliver teases, lovingly parroting the words that had been so cruelly overheard at the club. If Felix were any drunker or happier, he probably would have started actually skipping. As it was, however, the two of them approaching Felix's dorm building, he wraps an arm around Oliver's shoulders.

"You know all that stuff they said, all that stuff about being a good dog, you know that's how we feel about you too, Ollie," Felix can clearly tell the minute Oliver's brain short circuits, because he laughs and plants a kiss on Oliver's cheek, "sorry if you're more of a cat person, mate," he teases, as if he hadn't just suddenly rewired something in his boyfriend's brain.

You and Felix. YouAndFelix. Both love him the way a dog loves their owner. It goes beyond even any lewd fantasies he'd had; a year ago he was watching you both through his window, talking and laughing in the afternoon sun, wishing desperately that he could work up the courage to talk to either of you, befriend you.

But you and Felix - YouAndFelix, together, individually, in every single way Oliver can conceive the idea of you - both love him. Our Ollie, the way he's heard spoken so lovingly, sounds so much sweeter than he'd ever even imagined.

"You're both very sweet to me," Oliver hears himself mumble as he and Felix finally find themselves outside of Felix's door. Everything feels like it's spinning, in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the way Felix is smiling at him. Instead of answering, though Oliver's sure there's half a dozen teasing or sappy comments trapped in the tip of Felix's tongue, he kisses him instead. Felix always seemed to know exactly when Oliver was overwhelmed with their shared reality, and always took his time to admire that look in Oliver's eyes. Now was no different.

He's always thought Oliver was so strange, so queer, so different from everyone else in his life, and so clearly loved him for it.

Felix finally is the one to break the moment, knocking lightly on the door, knowing you well enough to anticipate where you'd be despite your earlier anger. As if on cue, you sighed heavily on the other side of the door, before inviting them in.

While Felix barely gives you time to react where you're in your pyjamas, sitting in his bed in the lamp light, not even kicking off his shoes before he throws himself into your lap, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pressed his face against your thigh, Oliver hovers by the door.

"Hi, sorry, hi, love you," escapes Felix in a rush. Despite your conflicted expression, the way your hand comes to rest on his head, carding through his hair is automatic. It's an endearing, amusing sight to Oliver, considering the night that had just passed. He knows you're looking at him, questioning gaze searching for some kind of explanation for Felix's change of behaviour, but Oliver lets himself linger a few moments longer on watching Felix's almost childishly clingy behaviour.

He struggles to kick off his shoes for a moment before he finally managed, and hitch a leg up, over both of yours, still in his jeans and jacket but refusing to be anything but wrapped up in you.

"I'm not staying," is what Oliver finally says, despite the gentle affection in his voice. You frown faintly, but still seem more confused than upset, "I think you two need to talk," he explains. Despite the way your mouth flattens into a thin line, you're still gently petting Felix's hair. Still, Oliver steels himself, giving you a strange little smile, "you're a good dog, Y/N," he says pointedly. This seems to surprise you, but not as much as Felix's sitting echo.

"Such a good dog," he agrees with a fond sigh, half muffled against you. Immediately your confusion, your concern drops in favour of sweet, hopeful shock. But Oliver continues before he shuts the door, smile growing into a grin.

"So are you, Felix," and Felix's head shoots up so he can level a bright, sunny smile over his shoulder at Oliver. Christ, Oliver can practically see his tail wagging.

"Love you, Ollie," Felix beams cheerfully. While Oliver echoes the sentiment back at you both as he closes the door, you can't seem to look away from Felix.

Something warm and pleased and satisfied curls itself comfortably in Oliver's chest on the brief walk back to his own room. It goes beyond any selfish, sexual desires he's had, not that there wasn't an element of that, of course, but he can't stop thinking about the joy in Felix's expression, or the way you'd disbelieving smile you'd been wearing when Oliver had closed the door. An old ache beginning to heal.

The change is subtle at first. At least, from the outside.

After that fateful summer, the three of you had made no secret of your relationship. Felix had always been tactile and clingy and prone to shows of affection, you had always made a point to make Oliver feel included and welcome and like you craved his company, while Oliver himself had never made any secret of whose attention and contact he preferred in any group setting. So he's sure, to their friends, the three of you seem to be the same as you've always been.

Farleigh had once scoffed at the pub that the three of you were insufferably gross, and while the rest of the group at the table had agreed, it had been more teasing than malicious; on one side of Oliver, you'd pressed your laughter into his shoulder, while Felix had throw his arm around Oliver and chided Farleigh not to be jealous, wearing a wide, easy smile.

Oliver and Farleigh still may not exactly see eye to eye, but things had gotten easier between them. Across the table, Farleigh met Oliver's bashful gaze and though he'd rolled his eyes, though he seemed exasperated by all three of you, there was warmth in his eyes. He may not love Oliver, but he still loved you and Felix; baby steps.

So all that to say that at first the change is so subtle that even the ever-watchful Farleigh, who knows you and Felix better than any of your other friends, doesn't even notice.

But oh, Oliver feels the change right away.

He honestly thought the three of you weren't able to get closer, but he's never been more thrilled to be wrong. Never afraid or jealous of each other living your own lives, it just seemed that when you're around each other, you weren't interested in being seen as an individual. More possessive in the most affectionate way. Always in some kind of obvious contact, arguably too close for the comfort of others, not that any of you cared. Oliver, always shadowed by his beautiful guard dogs.

"Can I wear this?" You ask casually one evening, drinking cheap vodka and juice as you waited for Oliver to get ready to go out. When Oliver turns, half dressed after a shower, he sees you holding one of the chains he always found himself wearing. He doesn't think twice before agreeing, doesn't even think much of the request at the time. The significance is missed on him until the two of you meet up with Felix in the line for the club and he pulls you by the chain, in for a kiss. You're still holding Oliver's hand, fingers linked with his. Reading Felix's kiss for the compliment it is, you grin sharply as you pull back, stepping up beside him in line.

"Thanks, it's Ollie's."

"I know," Felix snorts a laugh, throwing an arm around you as he gives Oliver himself a sly smile, "you look good too, mate, how're you going?" You squeeze Oliver's hand, leaning into him for a moment with a coy smile. Your free hand is playing with his chain around your throat. Like you know exactly where his mind has suddenly gone.

Oliver already knows how this night will end, and it doesn't disappoint.

Neither he nor Felix can seem to leave you or the chain around your neck well enough alone, and you're clearly love it. You let yourself be lead around, let them lavish you with affection in dark corners, wearing a smile that's all teeth when you meet the surprised, scandalised gazes of those who gawked rather than averted their gaze.

In the back of the taxi on the way to campus, you're impossibly affectionate, like an excited puppy as you try and split your attention to your boyfriends either side of you.

"Settle down, love," Felix takes your hand in his, keeping you momentarily still, even as you pout.

"We'll be home soon," Oliver murmurs quietly, trying to act casual as he looks out the window, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. A faint, impatient whine escapes you, but you acquiesce, leaning your head on Felix's shoulder even as a fond laugh rumbles from his chest.

The cabbie has the radio on in the front, pointedly ignoring the three of you. But the music is loud enough that he doesn't hear the soft, approving way Felix mutters in your ear -

"Good dog."

But Oliver hears, feels the way your thighs momentarily clench together, hears the breathless, needy 'fucking hell, Fi' that escapes you. His grin grows wider.

On the walk back to your room - always cleaner than Felix's, and with a bigger, nicer bed than Oliver's - you're quiet, seemingly focusing very hard on staying that way, even as Oliver and Felix are bantering easily either side of you. Hands to yourself - well, metaphorically, Oliver and Felix are both holding one of your hands, Felix, feeling particularly joyful swings your linked hands in wide arcs between you - you listen diligently, and chime in whenever you felt your input was needed. Oliver thinks you're being incredibly endearing, but once the door is closed and the rest of the world is cut off from the three of you, Felix softly asks if you're okay.

Surprise lights up across your face the minute the question is spoken. It hadn't even occurred to you that Felix wouldn't understand your behaviour in this moment; this is far newer to him than it is to you. But then you look to Oliver, almost like you're afraid that he wouldn't understand either.

But he does, of course.

There's a faint thrill that courses through him realising that for what is perhaps the first time since he'd met you, he can read you better than Felix. That Felix was yet to understand how far from reluctant or uncomfortable you were in that moment.

Felix had told you to settle, called you a good dog when you had. So now you were trying your hardest to remain settled, to remain good. How delightfully obedient you were in these moments, in this headspace.

Oliver finally gave you a warm smile, shrugging off his jacket.

"They're being good is all," he says casually, drawing Felix's confused attention as you broke out into a wide smile at the praise. Again, Oliver has a flash, a mental image of a tail wagging with joy behind you.

"I'm being good, I'm being settled," you reiterated pointedly, standing carefully by the foot of the bed. Once more, however, you've started fussing with the chain around your neck. Felix looks back to you, as if he still can't quite grasp the full scope of what's happening, and laughs lightly.

"You're so fucking cute," he grinned, "love, you didn't have to stay settled all the way back here."

"I didn't?" Your eyes go wide with confusion, and you look again to Oliver, as if for confirmation, "but I..."

Oliver can feel his heart beating in his throat. Oh, right, he's the one who's done this before, he's the one who started this all, at least this version of this dynamic. You aren't Felix's dog in this moment, you are his.

"You did good, pet, don't worry" Oliver assures you, soothing you with a gentle tone as he steps towards you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the forehead. Wearing a grateful little smile, you regard him lovingly for a few moments, before he steps away and you turn your focus back to Felix. There's a hungry kind of intrigue in his big, brown eyes now as he takes the scene in with newfound understanding.

"You really are a good dog," Felix marvels approvingly. Your whole face lights up at that, stumbling a few steps forwards, as if you hadn't meant to move but needed to be close to him. Nodding furiously in agreement, your fingers fidget like you're trying desperately not to reach for him. Felix steps towards you, his smile growing wider as he does so, "mine- ours?" He corrects, wrapping his arms around you, and finally your resolve breaks.

"Both," you assure in a rushed breath before you're pulling him in, kissing him frantically, as all the longing you'd held back since you'd been told to settle floods through you. Once fidgeting hands now start frantically tugging at clothing, both yours and his, but Felix is matching your energy entirely. Oliver gets hit in the face with your jacket as it's flung across the room but neither you nor Felix notices. In his enthusiastic haste several of the buttons on your nice, expensive shirt are ripped off, pinging around the room.

Not that Oliver actually minds.

Still in his jeans, he leans his hip against your desk and watches for a few long moments with both a lewd appreciation, and amusement. Perhaps another day, or when it was just the two of you, Felix would invest himself properly in a version of this fantasy where you truly are his dog. Tonight, however, Oliver sees opportunity in the obvious, messy, needy way Felix is pawing at you. An opportunity for his plan to finally be realised, and he's not letting it pass him by.

When you fall back on the bed, Felix braced over you, your hand finding his fly while the two of you still haven't stopped to really breathe, Oliver sticks two fingers in his mouth to let out a sharp whistle.

Immediately there's silence, the attention of both of you having immediately snapped to Oliver. Shaking his head with faux exasperation, Oliver sighs loudly, as if terribly put upon.

"Can't take you two anywhere," he tsked, crossing his arms over his chest, "pair of naughty fuckin' puppies, you can't leave each other alone."

Felix blinks quickly, as if caught of guard by the shift in tension, the dynamic.

"Ollie, what are you -"

"Ollie, don't be mean, Fi's the best dog, take that back!" You chided despite your wide grin.

"Is he now?" Oliver asks archly, smirking at you both. Felix isn't quite looking at him, expression drawn and thoughtful as he processed this change, turned it over in his mind. Slowly, he looks down at you, at your soft, warm smile. A silent conversation between you both, one of many that Oliver will only ever be able to guess at, and you close your eyes as you sit up enough to press your forehead to Felix's.

Felix visibly relaxed, which you must feel judging by the way you grin.

"It's fun, I promise," your whisper, though in the cool, quiet night, Oliver can still hear it clearly.

"But he called me naughty, I can't believe it," Felix whined playfully, causing you to laugh as the two of you sank back down on the bed. Felix tucked himself up beside you, face half hidden where he was pressing his lips to your shoulder to hide his little smile, "you're so mean to me, Ollie." It sounded as though he was pouting, but his eyes betrayed him, nervous and tentative to be adapting and playing along with the bit, but clearly more than a little excited too. There's also something tearing, almost challenging about the way Felix was running his fingertips up and down the side of your chest.

"You are being naughty," Oliver finally pushes off of the desk, sauntering over to the bed, "both of you acting like I didn't exist."

"Can you blame me?" You actually giggled, sounding downright gleeful, "look at who we get to play with!" Felix flushed at that, pressing his bashful smile against your shoulder. Oliver finds himself really quite taken with how you've chosen to adapt to having Felix by your side in this fantasy.

"If I can't blame you," Oliver says with faint notes of faux warning in his voice as he sits by you both on the bed, "are you saying I should blame Felix? Is our new pet a bad influence." You stumble over your words for moment, searching for a denial, but Felix's head shoots up at that, his eyes wide as he props himself up on the bed beside you.

"Hey, I'm a good influence! I'm good!" He insists, the words coming to him so automatically that it seems to startle even him before he properly focuses back on Oliver's fond amusement. Felix grins sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, ducking his head to look instead at you as he reiterated with a soft giggle, "I'm good."

"I think you're very good," there's love on your tongue, in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Then, in the next moment, you wriggle yourself over to rest your head against Oliver's thighs, gazing up at him with a pout, "come on, Ollie, don't be mean," you practically whined, while Felix himself half draped himself across your middle, his head resting on your belly as he turned his full attention and hopeful brown eyes upon your boyfriend. It was far more convincing than Oliver had been expecting, and he actually feels his hard resolve beginning to falter under the combined force of both your longing gazes.

"We're sorry for neglecting you," you add sweetly, expression earnest as your fingers begin to card through Felix's hair. For a moment, Oliver watches the way Felix's eyes fall closed, leaning into the sensation.

"Can we make it up to you?" Despite Felix's soft voice, his smile was already all kinds of pleased and contented, "we're good at that," he insists. God, Oliver knows all too well that you both are; fucking hell, part of him may never believe this isn't a dream. Except he knows his definitely not dreaming when he feels the delicate touch of your free hand on his knee, moving higher - or as high as you're able given the awkward angle your arm is at.

"Play with us, let us make it up to you," giving Oliver thigh a squeeze you grinned up at him. Without giving him a moment to respond, however, you made a tsk noise in the back of your throat, "you're so overdressed. Fi -" you tap Felix's head gently to get his attention once more, and Felix's eyes open, alight and at attention, "he's so overdressed, don't you think?" Immediately Felix is sitting up, agreeing.

"Think we should help him with that," Felix says frankly, wearing a pleased little grin like he's excited to be helpful. All over-eager and enthusiastic, both you and Felix are suddenly all over Oliver, working together to get him out of his jeans before he can even wonder where he'd lost control of the situation.

Playfully victorious, you're peppering Oliver's face with excited kisses as Felix is kneeling by the bed, tugging the now free jeans down his thighs. Despite the chaos of it all, Oliver's laughing loud and bright, trying his best to get his arms around you to still some of the kinetic love you're showering him with.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix, however, gets caught up halfway through his own job, and presses a kiss to his knee, hands coming to rest, flat and warm on Oliver's thighs, "how'd you expect to get off with those on?" But he sounds so light and joyful; Oliver's heart is fucking singing in this moment.

"Oi, sit," Oliver tries to order between his own laughter and your lips on his every few moments. It takes him another second to claw back some of his composure, "both of you, sit," at least this time you both listen, despite him still radiating breathless amusement.

Felix looks to you for a moment, watches the way you settle yourself, cross-legged and hands in your lap as you fought back a smile, and sits back on his heels, wearing a sheepish grin of his own as he looks back to Oliver. Oliver has to take a moment to compose himself, barely restraining his own laughter, before he kick his pants off from around his ankles. Felix takes the opportunity to then lean in and rest his chin on Oliver's knee, wide, affectionate grin on his face that Oliver practically melts at. He can't help himself -

"Who's a good boy?" He teases Felix, reaching over to scratch at Felix's scalp lightly. Again, Felix eyes close at his nose scrunches with a strange little smile.

"If it's not me I'm actually going to be so upset," he mutters, sounding almost embarrassed by the thought. It takes a moment for his words to sink, and he followed it with a snort of amusement, before all three of you are laughing in the warm privacy of your bedroom, and this moment.

"Of course it's you," Oliver reassures him, coaxing him up onto the bed, shifting to sit back against the headboard with room for you both on either side. Felix looks far less embarrassed and far more pleased now, leaning in when Oliver coaxes him in for a kiss, "my helpful, good boy," Oliver murmurs against his lips, and Felix lets out a breathless, pleased noise as he wraps an arm around Oliver's neck, kissing him back almost desperately. Oliver would always love how Felix was so wonderfully consistent when it came to his praise kink.

Beside him, he can feel you shift on the bed, and in the next moment, your hand is on his thigh. When he and Felix both look to you, breaking their focus on one another, you've settled yourself by Oliver's thighs. Leaning in, you gently nudge at his cock where it's staining against the material of his boxers with your nose, before proceeding to kiss softly up his shaft through the material. Sing when you reach the head, you sit back a little, giving pause as two of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband. Finally met his gaze, looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, want in your eyes that has Oliver's already quick heartrate thundering in his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit," he says wryly. You wet your lips, hips shifting a little.

"I am sitting," you pointed out, which set Felix off, had him pressing his amused chuckle against Oliver's shoulder. You did, however, remain obediently still. Except for the challenging smile that graced your lips, "wanted to make up for ignoring you."

Felix's laughter, however, had died down at that, and the hand that had been around Oliver was now trailing feather-light down his bare chest, past your own, to wrap around Oliver's aching hard cock, still trapped behind a thin layer of cotton.

"Just gotta say the word," Felix murmurs into his ear. His hand begins to slowly work up and down Oliver's cock. Oliver watches you lean down and press a kiss to the soft skin of his belly, by his hip, just above his waistband, while Felix was pressing languid kisses along his jaw.

"Both so good to me," Oliver groaned, gently pushing at Felix's shoulder, though he takes the hint and joins you by Oliver's thighs.

A moment passes between you both, Felix taking your face in his free hand and pulling you in for an intense kiss that only somehow manages to make Oliver even more painfully turned on than he already was. Both still half dressed, you're both practically overflowing with love for each other and Oliver in this moment. The kiss breaks and youre both grinning foreheads pressed together; Oliver's never been truly able to read the exact things that pass between you in these moments of silent communication, but he thinks he sees 'see, I told you this was fun' in the way you smile.

And as much as he adores this moment, he's pretty sure if someone doesn't actually touch his dick soon he's going to die.

"'s there a reason you're keeping me waiting?" Oliver asks archly; Felix's grin grows wider, while you give him a faintly guilty smile, apologising softly before you pull down his boxers. Finally.

Oliver's hips buck the second your fingers wrap around him, leaning down with intent to -

"Hey!" Felix almost sounds indignant that you'd taken his place, a thought which sends a thrill through Oliver. You look up at this, but the minute you're distracted Felix has bent down to run his tongue along the head of Oliver's cock, tasting the precum beading there before he's taking Oliver into his mouth.

"Fi, that's cheating!" You whined, pouting with your free hand braced against Oliver's thigh - "Ollie, Fi's cheating!" You pouted, to which Felix raised his head to defend himself, gleefully and entirely submersed in this roleplay.

"I'm not cheating," he tried to declare, however you dipped down in an attempt to usurp him. Felix, seemingly anticipating this, refuses to move, instead letting you headbutt him, the two of you in a playful stalemate while you attempted to keep up a consistent rhythm with your hand still on Oliver's cock. Tension, with neither of you backing down, breaks only when one of you - though Oliver's genuinely not sure which - seems to realise the reality of the situation, and how close you both are, and suddenly you're aggressively making out.

Not in Oliver's wildest dreams would he ever have imagined that he could have the two of you fighting over who gets the privilege of going down on him. It's going to take all of his willpower if he wants to last much longer. But he needs to last at least a bit longer, needs to take back control, to make sure this plays out well for both of you too.

So Oliver calls your name, and you and Felix break apart. Your eyes are on Oliver, wide eyed and breathing hard.

"No fighting," he chided, and you wet your lips, sitting back a little as Felix takes this as his victory. Oliver coaxes you up to him, part of him sad to lose the feeling of your talented fingers around him, but Felix is more than capable, and more than makes up for it. Oliver wraps an arm around you, his free hand guiding one of yours to Felix's head as it bobbed up and down between Oliver's thighs, "you're going to help him, you can do that, can't you?" His words are gentle, commanding, and even as you still seem to be playing at sulking, you give a small nod. Felix groans appreciatively as your grip tightens on his hair, which Oliver echoes as he feels it himself.

You're beginning to squirm. Good. He's been utterly thrilled by how tonight has been playing out, but Oliver always enjoys when you finally fall into being desperately obedient. He wants to show Felix how good of a dog you really are.

Oliver pulls you in closer, nose to nose, smirking as the playful fight in you was giving way quickly to pure desire.

"Our good boy, isn't he? Our Felix," Oliver's voice is loud enough for you both to hear; Felix moans around his cock, shifting to get a better angle, to take Oliver deeper, as deep as he can. Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. There was something truly, almost sickeningly fascinating about what he could only describe as your Praise-Kink-By-Proxy; you clearly got off to the way Oliver lusted over Felix, that much was made clear that night in the bathtub at Saltburn, and Oliver could see it in your eyes again now.

"Our Felix," you'd mumbled breathlessly, casting your gaze to him as Oliver lazily trialled kisses down your jaw and throat. Felix doesn't stop, your hand on his head still making sure he keeps a consistent rhythm, but he does look up, does meet your lust-filled gaze, does see how your hips and thigh are shifting. Oliver brings your gaze back to him by tugging at his chain around your throat, and it's all you need to kiss him. He doesn't let it go. Sloppy and passionate, he moans Felix's name into your mouth and you whimper desperately at the sound. His hips are rolling, matching Felix's rhythm as his cockhead presses insistently against the back of his throat, and you're panting and whining and unable to find any real relief -

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Oliver murmured sharply the minute he feels you reaching for the waistband of your own pants with your free hand. You whimpered, and his grip on the chain around your neck grows tighter. Squeezing your eyes closed as you shook your head, traitorous hand moving to dig your fingernails into your thigh, "are you going to settle down for me?" He whispered, lips brushing yours as you squirmed helplessly.

"This is unfair," you moaned, and Oliver's grip around you grew tighter, "Ollie, please -"

"You fucking love when I'm unfair to you," he hissed with an almost cruel smugness as you gasped, hips beginning to roll and rutt against nothing.

"Ollie, don't be mean," Felix raised his head, hand going still on Oliver's desperately twitching cock, an actual note of warning in his voice. Oliver smirks at him, all lazy, arrogant confidence. He maneuvers you, pulls you back from him to let Felix properly see the way your lip is beginning to tremble with how desperate you were for satisfaction or even just a hint of relief. Still, you tried to press yourself against him, even as your back arched wantonly and your thighs pressed together, shifting in search of friction that was still upsetting absent from where you desired it most.

"You think I'm being too mean right now?" Oliver whispered in your ear; unfortunately for you, Oliver knows all too well how much you love this game. After a moment of hesitation, your gaze locked with Felix's. It's as if you're embarrassed to be seen in this state, the way you'd so willingly let Oliver drive you mad with desire. Averting your gaze from Felix's, you swallow hard.

"No," the single word comes out as a sulky kind of whimper.

"And why's that?" Oliver prompted, adding slyly, "you made Felix worry." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

"He's -" you tired your head back with a desperate groan as Oliver raked the nails of his free hand up your side, "he's always good to me in the end." You pouted, clearly still thinking it was unfair being denied in the moment.

"You promise?" Felix asks firmly, looking Oliver in the eyes now.

"Promise," Oliver smirks back, whispering against your skin that if you're a good for him, he'll let Felix play with you. The desperate noise that escapes you is incredibly telling, and one Oliver knows all too well as the indication that you were on the edge of being incoherent. Good, he loves getting you to this point, and loves even more the way Felix is looking at you right now.

"You're doing so well, Felix, don't keep them waiting," Oliver insisted. At that you reached out once more, hand coming to rest on Felix's head, petting him gently before he allowed you to guide him back down to Oliver's spit-slicked and waiting cock. Oliver's grip on the chain shifts, the metal loose between his fingers as he carefully, delicately, wraps his hand around your throat. Your pleading expression is so deliciously needy when Oliver pulls you back in against him.

"Good dog," he presses the praise against your trembling lips.

It's like a beautiful symphony, better than any wet dream or fantasy he'd ever had, and he hadn't even fucked either of you yet. He moans Felix's name into your mouth when he finally comes undone, his hand resting on yours atop Felix's hair as he takes it all and swallows every last drop.

"So fucking good, Felix," Oliver's breathing hard as he comes down from the euphoric high he'd just experienced, scratching gently at Felix's scalp as he raised his head, pleased grin on his face. When Felix sits up, out of both of your grips, your hand immediately goes between your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but still fighting the urge, trapping it while still making your intent obvious.

But while Oliver is more than satisfied, you, tucked up against him, are all but a mess as he cradled you close.

"Come on, Ollie," Felix climbs over his legs to be by your side. His smile is warm and fond, and when Felix's hand comes to rest on your hip, your soft, whining noises become more audible, "the poor thing deserves a treat."

Oliver feels the way you shiver and tense with anticipation at Felix's words, nose then bumping insistently against Oliver's jaw, keening noises catching in your throat. You were begging in the only way you have left, now that you'd found yourself deep enough in this headspace.

"Look at him," Oliver murmured, sounding almost proud as you turned your desperate, hopeful gaze upon Felix, "he's even being good to you."

Taking it as a blessing, you're immediately scrambling to your knees by Felix, no longer whining, and clearly overjoyed. One hand pulling him in for a kiss, your other was frantically trying to remove your pants.

"Not ignoring you," Felix insisted to Oliver as you'd broken the kiss if only to pitch yourself back on the bed in an effort to wriggle desperately out of your pants, "just -"

"Settle down," Oliver ordered suddenly, and you suddenly went still, ceasing the way you'd been fighting with your pants around your ankles, "help them, Felix," she sighs with fond exasperation. Of course Felix does, but it's like a switch has flipped; he's back on board, a good dog still, just like you. Once your pants are off, Felix is trailing kisses up your legs, much to your clear glee -

"You puppies are so stupid," Oliver shakes his head, affection in his words, "you're lucky you're cute," but still both of you turn to him with a a sad kind of confusion. Oliver tries not to laugh, he really tries, you're both somehow hot and adorable at the same time, "Felix, you're still wearing pants."

Somehow, this seems to surprise both of you, and again you're up 'I can help, I can help, I can help' radiating enthusiastically from you as you make quick work of finally undoing Felix's fly, as you'd attempted to earlier in the evening. The two of you share soft giggles as Felix's hard cock is freed and his pants are tossed to the side, leaving him standing on the floor at the edge of the bed where you're up on your knees, looking up at him. Like this, he still manages to dwarf you, and Oliver watches with an aroused fascination as this moment plays out.

Felix doesn't speak, it's as if he's matching your energy, understanding your headspace, he's confident and even cocky in a way that Oliver doesn't often see from him. He remembers saying 'if you're good, I'll let Felix play with you' and it seemed some primative part of Felix's mind has taken that to heart as he held tight to the chain around your throat, leaning in with an unmistakable huger in his eyes. It has you practically melting, hands on his hips, not daring to stray further without his approval. He doesn't even kiss you, he holds you at bay with his lips inches from yours and a hand firm on your collar, drinking in your desperation. You begin to whimper again, shifting your weight back and forth, hips rocking in anticipation; Oliver's sure he'll be able to see the marks your nails leave on Felix's hips when you finally let go.

Another silent conversation between you both, but so clear, so loud, so simple Oliver can hear it loud and clear. Felix is telling you, in no uncertain terms, that in this moment you are his, and every part of you agrees. Yet Oliver knows with a smug, self satisfaction, that he with one word you would both be by his side. So he'll let you both have this.

A year ago, he would have paid his entire life savings and then some to get to see you two in a moment like this. Already, he's getting hard again; a familiar, voyeuristic thrill runs through him as he drinks you both in, taking his cock in hand.

Felix barely has to tip his head, letting go of your necklace, before you're moving quickly, a moment vague and indecipherable to anyone else is a clear directive for you to turn. It's a flurry of movement after that, of Felix's hands on you, on your hips to pull you close, your lower back to have you bending, face pressed to the mattress. Your ass in the air, presented to him perfectly, he slides into you, drawing unholy noises from you both after so long spent waiting already that night.

Oliver basks in this moment, can only imagine how good you must feel right now, all tight and warm and completely and utterly desperate to be filled. Felix's groan is its own kind of beautiful, finally finding his voice again as absolutely filthy praise spills from his lips. Hips rocking back to meet each of Felix's slow, deep thrusts, your breathing is shaky amid the low, pleased noises that escape you. Beautiful, a creature of mindless want and desire, you've got one shaking hand between your thighs as the other reaches out, searching blindly for Oliver.

Face pressed into the plush duvet, you link your fingers with Oliver's the moment he reaches out to you. Your grip is tight, and he runs his thumbs in comforting rhythms against your hands, something pleased, loving, and so fucking turned on as Felix was quickly coming to fuck you like an absolute animal. The way you so desperately craved.

"Perfect," Felix moaned, "god you're so fucking perfect for us, pet, aren't you?" Nodding weakly, as much as your able, you clutch at Oliver's hand; his teasing had clearly already worked you up, brought you close. Both of you.

"Our good dog," Oliver murmurs, just to hear you whimper.

Fuck, he can't wait to watch you come undone.

Can't wait to make you both sit, roll over, beg.

[taylorsburner]

K.I.S.S.I.N.G

✧Summary✧ An unexpected treehouse date turns into an unexpected meeting with Conrad's younger brother

a/n: first Conrad fic over here! something cute and fluffy so I hope y'all like it🫶🏾

How exactly you ended up in Conrads treehouse, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. All you knew is that in one of your nightly FaceTime chats over Thanksgiving break, Conrad had managed to somehow persuade you to fly back home with him have a little more time together at his house before you went home and didn’t see each other for a whole month. He even went as far as to come prepared with flight prices, times and anything else that would be needed to convince you. Including the justification of “My brother and dad aren’t going to be there for a few days. Do you want me to be all by myself at home?” with a little pout (a pout that he knew you couldn’t say no to) at the end to sweeten it up.

And to his surprise, and yours to be completely honest, you agreed to this little plan of his. You were going to miss him when you went home after all. Plus, you lived on the east coast too so it wouldn’t be that much out of your way, and even though you missed your family, it’s not like you were in a complete rush to get home. And you hadn’t bought your tickets at that point anyway so this in and of itself forced you to get that done.

Fast forward a couple of weeks and too many exams later and here you were, standing in the hideout Conrad claimed as his growing up.

“What am I in the girlfriends that have been up here roster?” You joke, looking through the bin of action figures in the cubbies against the wall.

“Number one actually.” Conrad honestly replies. He’d brought a girl home before, but never up to the treehouse.

“Really?” You ask turning back in his direction, not fully behind the idea of you being the first girl he chose to bring up here.

“Mhm.” He hums in response, a proud little smile threatening to break through in the process.

“Well I’m honored.” You proudly return, going back to looking at the relics of his childhood. On the outside, you were calm and collected, happily looking around. On the inside though, there were a million butterflies swarming your stomach and a pleasant warmth spreading through your body. Not that it really mattered, but hearing that you were the first girl he’d brought up here made you feel a little special. He showed you in other ways how much you meant to him of course, but being welcomed into a special space of his was just a nice cherry on top.

“This is too cute!” You gush, taking in all of the very Conrad touches around the space.

“My dad built it for my brother and I, but once Jere was no longer interested I made it my own hideout.” Conrad further explains, deciding to take a seat on the floor against the wall, focusing all of his attention on you.

“Well all of this is very you, very Conrad.” You hum with a little smile, deciding to join him on the floor. When you do this, you’re immediately being pulled over to straddle his lap, to which you had no complaints in the slightest.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He quips, quirking his brow up in your direction.

“It’s so neat and tidy in here. Plus, you have those little single player games you love so much for some reason. And there’s enough books for you to stay up here for god knows how long.” You reply, a small smirk forming on your lips.

“You may have a point.” Conrad concedes with a smile, his mind immediately flashing to the many times his mom had to practically bribe him to come down for dinner, even coming up there herself at times.

“I know.” You reply, pridefully beaming down at him.You could feel his arms wrapping your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, prompting you to rest your arms on his shoulders, immediately playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck out of instinct. A wave of comfortable silence falls over the room, both you and Conrad basking in the simple state of being together. And being closer than before. Even though it was a small thing to see his childhood home and treehouse, the both of you whether it was verbalized it or not, no doubt felt closer. Conrad chose and allowed himself to open up and bringing you deeper into his life, something he did very sparingly.

“Thanks for bringing me along babe.” You whisper, ducking down slightly to plant a small kiss on his cheek.

“There’s no one else I’d rather be here with.” He whispers back, with the utmost sincerity in his tone and eyes. Conrad then proceeds to tenderly bring his lips to yours.The two of you were in absolutely no rush, just wanting to soak up any and every moment you had together. You and Conrad were in a bubble. Better yet, an island all to yourselves. The privacy you two had to seek out for the past three or so months was all yours now, at least for the next three days until you yourself went home for the holidays. And because of that, you and Conrad were going to make the most out of this time together.

All either of you could focus on in this moment was your mouths moving against each other’s. Just about anything could’ve been happening around you both and neither of you would bat an eye in that direction. There was this sort of force that held you both tightly wound in each other without being overpowering. Your fingers were nestled within his hair as his glide back and forth across the expanse of your back.

The kisses from Conrad remained soft and tender, however you could feel a bit more power behind each one. A power to which you gladly reciprocated. He manages to slip his tongue past your parted lips, only intensifying the already heavy atmosphere. Not only had he taken claim of your mouth, you could also feel him quickly growing beneath you (and since you were straddling him, your center was pressed right against him) and you could feel his hands sneak underneath your hoodie and t-shirt to take claim of your warm skin beneath.

When it came to time or how cold it was outside, neither of you were paying attention. At this point, the both of you were turned on and wrapped up in each other to even care for how long you’d been up there. That is, until the youngest of the Fisher boys stated yelling at the bottom of the tree for him.

Originally, Conrad would be the only one at home for a few days before the youngest Fisher would arrive, followed by their father. This meant he’d have you all to himself for a few days, the much-needed calm before the storm if you will. And in the long run of his " plan ", he planned on introducing you to his father and brother when you came with him to Cousins over the summer. That is, if you said yes when he asked you (he had a good feeling that you’d say yes though). But seeing as Jeremiah had arrived earlier, that plan was now scrapped.

“Conrad, I know you’re up there.” Jeremiah says pointedly up towards the quiet treehouse.

At this, your boyfriend gives you the smallest shhh between his light pants before bringing his lips back to yours, hoping that the silence would send his brother away.

“Maybe we should go down there. You don’t want to be rude, that is your brother after all.” You quietly reason, catching your breath in the process.

“I just want you all to myself. Plus he wasn’t even supposed to arrive this early!” He pouts, pulling you closer if that was even possible. When he does this though, he slightly moves you against the very noticeable bump in his pants, causing the both of you to let out a sigh of momentary relief. Before you could even respond, Jeremiah is shouting again.

“I will come up there!” Jeremiah “threatens” from below. He would’ve stampeded up there already if he hadn’t seen two suitcases in the house when he went in. The last thing, like the very last thing, he ever wanted was to see was his brother in a compromising position. So he treaded on the side of caution, for his own sake.

When he says this, you give Conrad one look and at last, he’s throwing in the towel.

“No need! We’re coming down.” Conrad grumbles loud enough for Jeremiah to hear, giving your thigh a slight squeeze, signaling for you to stand up first. Moving your hands into his you move to stand up, your legs a little shaky from your “activities” and from being on the floor for that long. Conrad then follows suit, standing tall in front of you. As if there’s a magnet at your waist, his arms snake back around you to hold you again, to which you are more than welcoming. But before Conrad can plant a departing kiss on you, the nuisance below (at least that’s what Conrad would be referring to him as from now on) starts up again.

“Conrad and-“ Jeremiah begins, pausing to think about who and the hell his brother could possibly be up there with. “whoever he’s up there with, kissing in a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G.” Jeremiah proudly sings from the ground. ‘How childish could he possibly be’, Conrad thought. While Conrad let out an annoyance filled groan, you had no choice but to let out a giggle at the indirect back and forth between the two brothers. Eventually, the two of you make it back down the tree (Conrad reminding you to be careful just about every five seconds) to find Jeremiah waiting on the ground with a look of complete shock and a touch of confusion.

“Jere, this is my girlfriend Y/n. Y/n, this is my pest of a brother Jeremiah.” Conrad quickly introducing the two of you. You send the blonde a quick wave and smile, completely caught off guard at even meeting him right then and there, let alone right after you just finished making out with his older brother in his childhood tree house.

“Now how in the hell were you able to get a girlfriend? And a pretty one at that?” The blonde asks, a look of patronizing yet slightly genuine confusion on his face.

“Well when you’re not an annoying ass it’s a bit easier.” Conrad condescendingly replies, tightening the arm he had wrapped around your waist. To diffuse some of the tension radiating off of him, you peck his cheek and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Okay fine, don’t tell me.” He replies, rolling his eyes in the process. “Anyways, it’s nice to meet you Y/n. And I’m sorry you got stuck with my brother, hopefully he isn’t boring you too much.” He pokes with a wide smirk.

“It was nice meeting you too. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to let him know if he ever does.” You reply with a smile, even though you knew that it was practically impossible for Conrad to bore you in the slightest. Jeremiah lets out a small chuckle at your comment before giving his brother a strong pat on the back and making his way back towards the house.

“I swear he didn’t tell me he was coming early. It’s literally impossible for him to be early to anything.” Conrad quickly explains once Jeremiah is out or earshot, worried that you may have felt uneasy about meeting his brother this early on in your relationship.

“I mean, I was going to meet him eventually. Right?” You softly reply.

“Of course.” He quickly replies back.

“Then we’re just a tad bit ahead of schedule.” You ration, pulling away slightly to face him. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he had the biggest and sappiest smile spread across his face. “I would kiss you right now but I can’t feel my lips.” You joke snapping him out of the small daze he was in.

“Well let’s get you inside. Don’t need my girlfriend turning into a popsicle.” He chuckles before picking you up bridal style and running you two back to the house, sending you into a fit of laughter.

request new stuff here♡

[wttcsms]

excerpts;

i have over 100k+ words in unfinished drafts/wips in my google docs. yikes.

in an attempt to gauge general interest + also to motivate myself in attempting to at least finish half of the projects i've started, i'm going to share some of the fics i think y'all will be most interested in 🤍 (and also because these are my usual first rough draft attempts, so these are just the best of the worst LOL)

as always, lmk what you think, what you're most excited for, and i'm always open to chatting about any of my concepts in depth 🤭

featuring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, sae itoshi, tobio kageyama, naoya zenin, satoru gojo, + a plot that's still open for any character so tell me why ur fave deserves it (all with fem reader)

— brace for impact, keiji akaashi elevator pitch: rich college girl with daddy issues is roommates/put under the care of old-time family friend, 20-something y/o keiji akaashi

“I just don’t want you to waste your life away.” He answers, which is the truth. He really hates picking you up when you’re drunk off your ass, unable to defend yourself against the swarms of sleazy college guys that are attending the same party as you. He hates the fact that you’ve been raised — if the dozen father-daughter interactions you had with your dad counts as him “raising” you — to believe that money can solve all your problems. Because, sure, having money has gotten you out of many tight spots, but it wasn’t money that drove to a college on the other side of the city to pick you up, it was him. He has to stand here and watch you push the universe’s boundaries, trying to test your luck, to see if there’s a problem or a bad situation that you can’t get out of this time. You’re reckless and privileged and insecure and rich — the deadliest combination for any college age girl to be. You’re going to ruin your life before it even fully begins. It’s like your default mode is self destruction. 

“Not this speech again.” You sigh, shifting your body so that your knees are turned towards the door instead of him. “Y’know, Akaashi, you’re not my dad.” 

“Yeah, because unlike him, I actually care about you.”

You’re silent now, still staring out the window. He’s usually better at keeping his mouth shut, but it’s hard to do whenever you’re constantly pushing and pushing and testing his patience and he’s just so—

“—sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how the words leave his mouth; you think the way he’s clenching his teeth acts as a formidable enough boundary. 

Actually, you think, it’s entirely justifiable. You’re coy, not dumb. You know when you’ve pushed Akaashi too far, and this is one of those times. And, really, you kind of — scratch that — you do deserve it. All of it. And then some. You’re irresponsible, and you drag him out to the other side of the city so he can act as your guardian, your protector, even though that is most certainly not the role he planned on playing. Honestly, you’re just surprised that he hasn’t left you out to rot like everyone else, and you’re thankful, you really are. But what are you supposed to say? That? The truth? Probably. 

You don’t, though. You just mutter some weak ass retort that sounds an awful lot like “you need to get laid” before staring out the window for the rest of the ride. 

— devil on my shoulder tellin' me i'll die soon (i don't really want that to impact you), atsumu miya elevator pitch: yakuza au but a healthy amount of porn and plot. sequel to this.

The first time Osamu Miya meets you, you’re unconscious, and he has a feeling you’d be grateful about this fact considering the state you’re in. 

Atsumu’s carrying you bridal style, and even in your sleep, you still cling to him. The sight would be almost sweet, but Osamu’s not an idiot. There can never be anything sweet in his dear older brother’s life. Even in the pale moonlight, Osamu can see the bruises and hickeys lining your neck, a trail of them that seem to disappear underneath your clothes (he wouldn’t be shocked if there’s a map of hickeys littering your skin). Your hair is sticking up at odd angles, your lips are swollen, and you are knocked out in every sense of the word. 

If the situation wasn’t serious (even without verbal confirmation, he’s well aware of how dire this situation is right now; Atsumu wouldn’t have visited him if it weren’t), Osamu thinks he would have made a comment about his brother’s rough handling. 

(He doesn’t, though, because Osamu knows all about just how rough his brother can get — after all, they both had the same upbringing.) 

“‘Samu,” Atsumu says, and his voice makes him sound like he’s worse for wear. He sounds like when he was fourteen and had his first taste of initiation, when a group of the strongest men would beat him relentlessly for thirty seconds and he wasn’t allowed to fight back. The crack in his voice is subtle, and even though Osamu rarely speaks to his brother anymore, he’s still a master at reading him. 

“Who’s the girl?” Osamu nods to your sleeping form, trying not to focus on the purple and red marks. God, he can’t tell if he, Atsumu, you, or all three of you are lucky it’s so dark. Osamu can’t really believe it’s possible to go out in public after a night with his brother; not without being on the receiving end of a few concerned looks. 

“I need a favor.” Atsumu ignores his question, which is typical behavior for him, so Osamu’s not entirely too surprised or annoyed. “She’s in danger, and it’s—” 

Atsumu grimaces like the next words he’s about to say are going to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. And maybe it’s because that’s his brother and they grew up together, or maybe it’s because ‘Tsumu’s always been a little predictable (or has Osamu just always been good at predicting?), but Osamu can almost mouth what his brother’s about to say.

“—my fault.” 

So, you must be someone awfully important to his brother then. Important enough that Atsumu would finally visit him in person after all these years (with barely any warning beforehand, too). Important enough that Atsumu would treat you so roughly (if the marks on your body are any indication of what you’ve been through) and still care about you so deeply. Important enough that he’s finally taking accountability, finally taking the blame for his actions.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Atsumu’s left him genuinely speechless for a moment. 

“Please, ‘Samu.” Atsumu Miya is not the type of person who breaks down easily. He does not beg, he commands. But right now, Atsumu sounds like he’s this close to getting down on his knees and clasping his hands together if that’s what it’ll take to get Osamu to help him. “You told me you would owe me after what I did for you. Consider this your repayment.” 

Apparently, you’re someone so important to Atsumu, he’s cashing in a favor that’s worth his life just to ensure your safety. Osamu can’t tell if that’s true idiocy or true love — then again, there’s hardly a difference between the two, is there? 

“Idiot. I would have helped ya regardless, y’know.” He means it. Every word. 

“I know.” And Atsumu means it, too. Because even if they’ve went years with little to no contact, even though they both belong to two completely different worlds, they’re still brothers. Which means that they also know each other as well as they know themselves, and Atsumu knows that Osamu can never truly be at peace until he feels like the completely imaginary debt he owes is paid back in full. 

The universe must have a taste for irony, though, because Atsumu thought that ensuring your safety and bringing his brother peace would make him feel good. Instead, transferring you to his brother’s arms allows the weight of the world to rest more comfortably on his shoulders. 

Osamu takes one last look at his older brother, and he’s not entirely surprised to see that his attention is on you, dark eyes staring so intensely at your sleeping figure, he wonders if he’s trying to commit your face to his memory. He’s worried about Atsumu. Sure, he’s got a whole entire gang on his side, a rather powerful one too, but ‘Tsumu’s never been the greatest at being left alone to his devices, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

But then Atsumu looks up at him, and Osamu feels like they’re both fourteen again. Trapped, vulnerable, in immense pain… But not alone, never alone. 

“Thanks, ‘Samu.” 

“Any time, ‘Tsumu.” 

(It’s the same words exchanged by their teenage selves years ago, whenever Osamu would help him clean his cuts and sloppily stitch him up.

To them, it was another way of saying “I love you”.)

— it always leads to you [chapter one], sae itoshi elevator pitch: literally the long ass, long awaited start to this series. if you listened to taylor's new album (ttpd)... yeah, that's basically the new soundtrack for this fic. do what u will with that info <3

A hard pill to swallow is that people never get over their first loves. 

It’s like, scientifically proven, or something. There’s been studies, you think. Not to mention that you belong to the group of people who have never gotten over their first loves. 

You’re aware that it’s probably embarrassing and should be something that brings you shame, but when Sae comes knocking on your door, infrequent, surprise visits that always catch you off-guard, you find yourself opening the door for him. 

(He has a key. He can let himself in any time he wants. You think he must forget.)

This time, he’s not knocking on your door, but he is waiting in the stairwell near the entrance to the floor of your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap on and a dark sweatshirt, and you want to tell him that everyone who lives here is most definitely getting shitfaced at the college bar you just left (the one whose only redeeming qualities are that it’s by campus and the drinks are cheap). He doesn’t have to worry about hiding his identity. 

You frown when he approaches you. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you pout and complain about this halfheartedly, but it’s all for nothing. Sae never tells you when he’s coming; it’s almost like you’re just a spur-of-the-moment decision to him, which doesn’t feel right since the Sae you grew up with was always meticulous and purposeful with his actions. Granted, the Sae you grew up with left on a plane to an entirely different continent four years ago, and the one you have standing next to you now sometimes feels more like a doppelganger than your ex-boyfriend. 

He doesn’t answer, because of course he fucking wouldn’t. He waits for you to fumble with your keys; if you knew he was coming, you wouldn’t have let Akane convince you to take as many shots as you did. Now everything is kind of blurry and hazy, and your hands shake despite the lack of coldness you’re feeling. 

You delude yourself into thinking that there’s something of the old Sae left inside of him as he gently pries the keys from your fumbling fingers and unlocks the door to your apartment himself. 

Entering your apartment feels like traveling in a time machine, only instead of traveling back in time or to the future, Sae is entering a present-day parallel universe. This apartment, with its best (and only) amenity being a short distance from campus, could have been his. Could have been shared by the two of you, even. 

If he had stayed, that is.

Sometimes Sae ponders what his life would be like if he stuck around. If he had never had the ego or the audacity to want to see more of the world. You know better than to ask him why he never visits you when you’re on a holiday break from school, and he thinks it’s because you still know him the best out of anybody, even Rin. The truth is, Sae is too uncomfortable to come crawling back to his childhood home that he grew up in, the one he’s spent years determined to grow out of. He only comes back home when absolutely necessary — out of eldest son/family obligation. 

This college apartment, seeing remnants of a life you’re living that he doesn’t know much about (even though all he has to do is ask, and you would gladly tell), feels wrongly nostalgic. Like, the sweatshirt lying haphazardly on the couch displaying a big, fat Tokyo U logo on its front could have been his instead of your roommate’s. He could have played college ball instead of trying to get recruited directly to the big leagues. Sae’s good enough to get a scholarship. Even received a letter informing him that Tokyo U would be more than glad to have him, full-ride. 

(The letter resides in the back of his closet, crumpled up but never forgotten.) 

And, most importantly, you wouldn’t be looking at him like this. 

Even drunk off of cheap alcohol, you sober up startlingly fast when you see him. You shouldn’t give him so much power over your life, but he’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t relish in the overwhelming relief that you still love him just the same. Nothing ever changes back home, and he says this with disdain, but when it comes to your unshifting affection for him, he figures staying the same can’t be all bad.

“Y’know, it always feels like you’re judging me when you just stand there and look at everything.” An intoxicated you is an honest you. If he wasn’t so determined to mask everything about himself, he would have smiled at your admittance. 

He doesn’t smile, though. He just continues to let his cold eyes roam across the entirety of your cramped, college apartment.

— an indentation in the shape of you, tobio kageyama elevator pitch: idol!reader who goes into hiding after a major scandal despite being the victim x pro!tobio who's been hopelessly pining after you since forever. now you're in hiding, but also living in the apartment right across from his.

SEARCH NEWS: [NAME] [SURNAME] > TOP RESULTS (SORTED FROM MOST TO LEAST RECENT)

WHERE DID [NAME] [SURNAME] GO? *INCLUDES EXCLUSIVE PHOTO OF HER MOST RECENT SIGHTING!*Posted on March 10, 2019

[NAME]’S SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN DOWN, IDOL HAS NOT BEEN SPOTTED IN A WEEK Posted on January 4, 2019   BREAKING: [NAME] [SURNAME] GOES SOLO! LEAVES IDOL GROUP TO START HER OWN CAREER! Posted November 6, 2018

KENTARO TANAKA NOW DATING J-POP IDOL AYAME MATSUMOTO, [NAME]’S FELLOW GIRL GROUP MEMBER!Posted on November 1, 2018

AFTER RECEIVING BACKLASH FROM ANNOUNCEMENT OF HER RELATIONSHIP, [NAME] [SURNAME] ISSUES AN APOLOGY ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS Posted on September 3, 2018

NEW COUPLE ALERT! IDOL [NAME] AND HER RECORD LABEL’S EXECUTIVE, KENTARO TANAKA, SPARK DATING RUMORS Posted on August 16, 2018

When you spend most of your adolescent and young adult years standing in front of a camera, constantly served on a platter for the masses to scrutinize during your most formative years, you get used to being seen. People’s eyes locked in on you isn’t a comfortable feeling, but it’s one you’re very well acquainted with. Watchful, judging gazes cling to you like a second skin. 

It comes with the job is what your personal manager, Fumiko Gima, tells you, right before she tells you to toughen up. You had been fifteen at the time and saw a blogger discussing how you were the least attractive cast member on the children’s ensemble show you starred in. 

All eyes are on you from this point forward. You really going to let them see you cry? Fumiko is not a nice person, but she is incredibly kind, in her own way. She’s the type of person who believes in tough love, all while claiming that she doesn’t even think love exists. 

You think about the disapproving frown on her face when you revealed your relationship with Kentaro Tanaka. 

“You think you’re in love with him?” Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Fumiko is barely seven years older than you. Her youth is evident in her flawless skin and shiny hair (both of which are maintained by very meticulous routines), but the flat expression she wears on her face makes her seem like a woman who found out the hard way that her thirties are not going the way she planned. You’re eighteen when she asks you this question, and you don’t know how a twenty-five year old woman can have such an intimidating aura, but you think that only adds to her beauty. 

“He told me he loves me.” 

“People like him and I don’t believe in love.” Fumiko makes a face; sometimes, she lets her poker face drop in favor of making a face of disgust, annoyance, irritation, or extreme smugness. Right now, she looks disgusted. “Well, I wouldn’t normally place myself in the same group as him, but our industries are pretty much the same. You don’t get to where we’re at because of love, that’s for damn certain.” 

At this point in time, you’re adamant that it’s love because that’s what he says it is, and you’ve never been in love before, but you know that it’s something great. You’re eighteen, and insecure, and he’s in such a powerful position — he could have anyone he wants, and he loves you, so he picks you. Maybe Fumiko is just bitter because no one’s ever chosen her. 

— angel of the morning, atsumu miya elevator pitch: historical, ambiguous war au ft. soldier!atsumu x the civilian sweetheart reader who nurses him back to health

It’s the thunder that wakes you first. 

Lately, you’ve been a light sleeper. Paranoia is a good companion whenever you’re a young, pitifully unmarried lady who lives alone. You keep a chair propped under the knob of the front door, and you no longer open any windows, scared that you’ll forget to lock them at night. 

Normally, it’s the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, or the creaks that come and interrupt the silence of the night (your parents used to swear that old houses just make those noises) that keeps you up. Sometimes it’s the neighbors next door; they like to get into screaming matches that seem to be so loud, they shake the walls of your home. 

It’s not your neighbors’ arguing that rattles the walls tonight. It’s the thunderstorm that the sweet old man at the farmer’s market warned you about. You be safe out, miss. Take some extra apples. It might be too flooded for you to go out like you normally do. 

You pull your blanket over your head, enveloping yourself in darkness but doing very little to block out the noise outside. The thunder seems to only grow louder, each boom punctuating the lightning that you’re certain is striking through the sky. It’s too loud. 

And rhythmic. 

You listen closer… Three booms in succession. A pause. Three more booms. After a minute of this pattern, the sound only comes more rapidly — louder than before, too. 

The loud booms — it’s not from the storm, then. 

There’s someone knocking at your door. 

You debate hiding under the blanket forever. Maybe this stranger will go away and leave once they realize that no one is going to answer the door. Besides, no one trustworthy is roaming the area at this time of night, right? What possible explanation could there be for someone to be stranded outside at midnight during a major thunderstorm? 

But the knocking persists. Whoever this stranger is, they don’t know when to quit. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so paralyzed with fear. 

“Open up!” A muffled voice still manages to cut through the front door, traveling all the way to your bedroom. It only serves to make you more afraid; what sort of monster is waiting for you outside? The storm rages on, and the knocking won’t stop. 

What happens if this person is in genuine trouble? Would a murderer truly be going through such lengths to kill someone? A thief? 

Well, you rationalize, it’s not as if you have many items worth stealing. Besides, you have no family, no marriage prospects, and a dwindling stash of money with no means to make more. You’re just existing at this point, and you’re surviving on limited time.

So you make your way to the front door, cringing as one section of the floor creaks as you tiptoe through the darkness of your home. You highly doubt the stranger outside can hear you, but you still hold your breath as you peek through the curtains. It’s too dark inside and out for anyone to notice the movement, and all you can make out is a large figure. There’s a knapsack by their feet and hanging off their shoulder is a gun. 

The knocks shouldn’t catch you off guard by now, but one particular hard bang against the door has you jumping in surprise, away from the window. 

This stranger must be a soldier. 

There’s not a lot of fighting to be done down here. The southern towns have mostly been unaffected. Most of the war is being fought up north. All the southern soldiers write back home, telling stories about the cities they visited, careful not to mention the red that runs through the streets and the way the citizens will have to update the population count on the sign outside their City Hall. 

But still, you know what everyone knows — when a soldier, especially one from your side, shows up on your front step, you better let him know that this home is now his. 

You slide the deadbolt with shaky hands, turn the lock on the doorknob, and only hesitate for a few seconds before removing the chair that serves as your last barrier. He’s a soldier, you remind yourself, hoping that you’re not wrong. The least you can do for him is offer him a hot bath for leaving him outside for so long. 

You open the door, revealing a blond-haired soldier weighed down from the weight of his sopping wet uniform, his hair sticking to his forehead because his face is also covered in rainwater, and it’s now that you notice that he’s got one arm wrapped around his abdomen. His hand is pressing down on his side, and you don’t think the dark liquid coating his fingers is water. 

“Finally.” He says. “I’m First Lieutenant Miya, and I fight for the south. I am seeking temporary refuge in your home, and I require only what you can afford to give me. I–“ Before he can finish rattling off what he’s been forced to memorize for times like these, First Lieutenant Miya falls forward, his body crashing into yours. 

It’s been a rough day. 

A rough week. 

A rough month.

A rough life, really, but Atsumu Miya’s long past the days of whining and complaining about things he can’t control. For example, he no longer dwells on his father abandoning his mother right before she gave birth to him and Osamu. There’s still a bitter taste that gets left on his tongue when he mentions dear old pa, which is why, for the most part, he chooses not to discuss him at all. He can’t control the way the north and the south view each other; sure, the mandatory draft isn’t his definition of a fun time, but he honestly didn’t have many plans after school, anyway. He probably would’ve joined the cause, regardless of the law or not. It’s just… A choice is nice to have, y’know? 

Like, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have gotten caught up in some ambush tonight. If only he weren’t just a lieutenant. If only his captain weren’t such a dumbass.

If he had a group to command, Atsumu’s certain that he wouldn’t lead his men into obvious traps, unlike some captains. But newly promoted Brigadier General Kita isn’t here to force people to listen to what Atsumu has to say. Kita has bigger problems to worry about, bigger troops to organize. 

Atsumu’s morning starts off bright and early with a five mile trek in the woods. The sky is overcast, and anyone with eyes is capable of predicting the storm that’s coming. Atsumu suggests building temporary shelter before the rain makes it too hard to walk; it’s already hard enough to navigate now, but Atsumu’s visited this town before, when he was a little boy. It floods easily, too easily. 

His captain doesn’t listen. Typical.

Around noon, they take a short break to eat. Rations are getting lower. Atsumu suggests that two or three soldiers turn around and head towards town to get supplies. His captain argues that their group is already small enough and sneers that Atsumu must be a northie lover since he’s trying so hard to sabotage this plan. 

The plan is shit, by the way. The captain swears his intel is good, that he’s just oh so certain that a troop of northern soldiers are planning to invade a series of small southern towns. They’re supposedly cutting through the woods to be discreet, and they plan on striking at night.

Atsumu thinks that the captain is just falling into their trap (spoiler: he’s right). There’s no way anyone would bother capturing small towns, just like there’s no way people ever want to listen to someone who’s just a lieutenant. Nobody thinks they have anything to offer, so it’s not worth the time to even pretend to care. These towns aren’t loaded with resources. They aren’t located in any coveted areas. There are only a couple of farms, but even then, they’re not big enough to justify wasting troops to terrorize the townspeople. 

But First Lieutenant Miya follows his orders anyway because what else is he supposed to do? Unfortunately, talking back comes to bite him in the ass because as nighttime starts to settle and the first drops of rain start to fall, his captain gives him a slimy smile before telling him, “Since you have such great ideas, Lieutenant, why don’t you go ahead and turn back into town to get us some of those supplies we needed?”

Well, Atsumu has a few choice words in reply, none of which will get him back into his captain’s good graces (not like he cares to be anyway). Atsumu can argue that it’s dark out, and no one in their right mind is going to be up at night. Atsumu can throw back his captain’s words and remind him that their measly team is already lacking in numbers. He can make the captain look dumb and ask him where the supposed enemy troops are at, since apparently they’re supposed to be capturing the town right about now. He can abandon the men, go back home, and enjoy a homecooked meal from ma. She wouldn’t care enough to scold him for being a dirty deserter; the lecture will come, surely, but she wouldn’t be too harsh with him. Atsumu misses home. He misses his brother, who belongs to a different troop. He misses Shinsuke, his former captain. He misses his mom. 

What he does end up doing, though, is biting back his tongue. He barely nods, clenches his teeth as he reluctantly says yes, sir, and treks off on his own. 

He’s about three miles in when the bullets start flying. 

Isn’t this just a lovely way to finish off the night, he thinks, before sprinting through the trees, weaving between them, trying to ignore how loud and how close the shots sound. He thinks he’ll probably go deaf by the time this damn war is over. A bullet narrowly misses his face, and then he starts to think he’ll probably be dead before then.

He can’t see. If he can’t see, he doubts the enemies can, either. That’s when he gets an idea. His legs are sore, he’s thirsty, and every step he takes is punctuated by a sloshing sound because the area is flooding, just like he predicted it would.

(Sometimes it’s a pain being right all the time.)

The shots are still coming at him in rapid succession, and he believes maybe it’s because they still think they have to shoot at him. If they think they got him, maybe they’ll leave him alone. It didn’t sound like anyone was bothering to chase after him, meaning they’re all probably perched in trees or hiding in bushes, shooting blindly into the night, hoping to land a lucky shot on a target. 

Before he can pretend to be hit, though, some bastard does get a lucky shot on him.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but yell out, the bullet piercing the side of his abdomen. A burning sensation begins to form on the spot where the bullet decided to make its happy home, and Atsumu can’t help but fall to the ground, clutching at the bottom half of his body. 

A minute goes by with no more shooting, and he’s glad he’s in enough pain not to realize that had he thought of his little plan of pretending to be shot sooner, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. 

It’d be so easy just to lie down and die. It’d be a slow death, sure. Painful, very much so. But no more fighting. No more captains belittling him. 

But if you die, a tiny voice in his head reminds him, it wouldn’t just be you that dies. It’d kill ma. It would ruin Osamu. Don’t be a selfish bastard. 

He allows himself only one more minute to stay absolutely still. He thinks the adrenaline pumping in his system helps to numb the pain, which is saying a lot, considering the fact that death would be preferable over this excruciating sensation. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he struggles to stand and keep himself steady.

He cannot die like this. 

Atsumu Miya knows better than to get upset at things he can’t control. He can’t control flying bullets aimed at him. He can’t control enemy soldiers; hell, he doesn’t even have soldiers he can control, enemy or ally. He can’t control a lot of shitty things that seem to happen to him, but as long as his heart is still beating, Atsumu Miya controls his own fate. He decides what happens next. 

It’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, he rationalizes. He walks all the time. It’s not such a hard task. The storm continues to rage on, and Atsumu pretends he doesn’t even mind the water. He pretends that he’s not freezing. He pretends that he doesn’t care that his uniform is sticking to his body, making the dirty fabric cling onto him as if to act as a second skin. 

There’s a white flag in his knapsack. During training, they said to use it as a last resort. Die before you wave it, or something like that. 

He knows the intended use for it, but right now, he needs it as a tourniquet. He tightens the flag around his waist, using all his diminishing strength to get it as tight as possible. He can trick himself into thinking it’ll stop the flow of blood leaving his body, but at least it’ll slow it down. It’ll grant him enough time to make it into town and get help. 

He doesn’t choose the first house he sees; he chooses the one he likes the best. It’s nothing all too impressive — certainly not the biggest, but from what he can make out in the dark, it looks quaint. It reminds him of home, almost. There’s a porch with a bench outside and flowers on a window sill. It seems to glow in the darkness of the town, its paint a much brighter shade than the surrounding houses. A nice family must live here then. 

He knocks on the door, and there is no answer. Atsumu Miya did not walk this far with his life literally draining out of him to only make it this far. He knocks and knocks, and because he is too stubborn, even to the very end, he doesn’t quit. Someone must answer the door. It doesn’t cross his mind that perhaps this lovely family he’s envisioning might not even be home. It feels like ages since he first started banging on this door, and he thinks this might be it.

And then the door swings open, revealing a young lady with a certain glow about her. Maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but right now, you look like an absolute angel. His bright beacon of hope. 

“Finally.” He swallows hard, trying to remember what he’s supposed to tell you. The proper words are evading him right now. Honestly, even standing is a struggle now. He thinks he does a good enough job, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open back up after that.

— to the victor belong the spoils, naoya zenin elevator pitch: the dark longfic i mentioned abt borderline yandere naoya + how he basically slaughtered your whole entire clan and is going to force you to marry him because you have a cursed technique that will basically grant him invincibility

“Who did this?” You’ve seen Naoya so angry that his words seemed to shake the very interior of the room he was shouting in. You’ve seen Naoya so furious that he had everyone in his vicinity cowering in fear, scared to face his merciless wrath. Never have you seen him so enraged that he can hardly speak, the sentence coming out from between bared teeth; they’re discernible growls more than they are words, but his message doesn’t need to be understood in order to know his intent. 

Naoya Zenin is out for blood. 

“Tell me who did this.” He demands, hand gripping your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and stare him directly in the eyes. You know why he does this; he can read you like a fucking book. He’ll know if you’re lying before you can even finish whatever fabricated story you’ve spent forever formulating. There’s no point in trying to trick him because it’ll cause him to get angrier, and then what? Then, you’ll have the whole entire room’s blood on your hands. A massacre dedicated just for you. 

You hadn’t cried when he had taken you from your home. You hadn’t cried when you were about to be killed by that curse. You hadn’t shed a single tear despite the unfamiliarity of the Zenin Estate, despite the fact that you were forced into a marriage with a man you did not know, despite the fact that you’ve never been this far from home, suffering silently in feelings of isolation and despair. You hadn’t cried after all of that, yet now you’re sobbing? Now you’re here, struggling to stand on your own, clutching onto the material of his shirt as if he’s your only lifeline, dangerously close to burying your face in his chest and crying your little eyes out. He’s been angry more times than he’s ever felt any other emotion. He’s numb to the feeling of his blood rising, of his vision being tainted with red, of having nothing but sick thoughts and vivid memories of torn flesh and severed limbs surrounding him. This emotion isn’t foreign to him; it’s a part ofhim. And he’s angry, yes, but there’s something else that he feels when he looks down and sees you making yourself smaller, as if trying to use him as your own personal shield.

— balancing act [chapter one], satoru gojo elevator pitch: the first month of your bet will you and gojo inevitably get together <3 the start of this series.

You have what you order down to a T. You first started your tried and true method of restaurant ordering when you were but a wee little intern, too shy to go to town on a rack of ribs in front of your peers and bosses. Once you entered the city’s dating scene (which is actually Dante’s tenth circle of hell — it’s just never discussed because that’s truly how vile trying to find a good man in a big city is), you realized that there’s not much difference between lunch dates and client lunches. 

You have the obligatory greeting exchanges (“hi,” “hello,” “how are you,” etc.), the awkward smiles, the mental countdown going off in your head as you wait for the perfect moment to get right into business (“what do you expect to gain from this partnership?” — a line surprisingly used more often in your meetings with potential investors and clients). There’s the pained professionalism, the tight-lipped smiles, the napkin resting in your lap, the battle to maintain constant eye-contact. When you sit across from someone at a table, date or client, you don’t see the person; you see a goal. 

And you’re good at working towards a goal. It’s why you’ve always been the analyst your managers rely on, why you’ve morphed into the senior associate that all your juniors look up to at G&G Capital, and why you automatically figure that if you set your sights on a man only to have him end things, it’s not you who was at fault. It has to be him. You’ve charmed the toughest clients and built fantastic working relationships with the most well-connected M&A lawyers; if you’re this good at professional relationships, why wouldn’t you also be fan-fucking-tastic at a romantic one? 

All the men who have taken you out on dates before wanted to sweep you off your feet. An ex-boyfriend once admitted to you that you appeared so unimpressed at everything, it had become this fun, twisted competition with himself to see what he had to do to get a look of amazement on your face. 

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re impressed.” Gojo says gleefully, holding open the dirty glass door so you and Utahime can walk in. 

Utahime looks like Gojo just slid open the backdoor to a white van and told her to get in. There’s shock with a hint of disgust evident on her pretty, doll-like features, and you know you’ve got a similar expression, too. 

The floors inside this restaurant — if the dingy, dimly lit shack crammed with small tables and rickety chairs can even be considered a restaurant — are sticky with decades’ worth of mystery liquids that have congealed into the half-inch thick residue that coats the floorboards. You have to purposely think about moving one foot in front of the other in order to walk because actual pressure needs to be applied if you don’t want your heels to become glued to the floor. You’re walking in front of Utahime and Gojo, and you end up choosing a table in the far back; it looks the cleanest. Briefly, you wonder if you’re allowed to be here, then think better of it as Utahime takes the seat next to you, and Gojo takes the one across. You highly doubt there’s a hostess here that’s dictating where the customers sit.

Especially since, upon one glance of the whole place, you realize that it’s empty save for you three. 

“Gojo, if we get killed, I hope they murder you in front of us first,” Utahime hisses. Her family’s so rich (and traditional), she’s never willingly been to a restaurant that doesn’t have a Michelin star. Before college, she’s never even eaten out at a chain restaurant. Being caught in a place like this has Utahime mentally spiraling towards rock bottom. 

“I hope they would, too. I don’t think I have the stomach to watch you meet your grisly end.” Gojo says serenely. Usually, he says things loudly, teasingly, gets all up in your face. When it comes to Utahime, he likes to play at being nonchalant. He’s been doing this to her for over a decade now, and it still grates her. 

Before Utahime can reply, the shaky voice of an older woman is exclaiming, “Oh! Welcome in! Have you gotten a chance to look over the menu?” The voice belongs to a short, plump woman with gray hair, a wrinkly face, but a kind smile that reveals yellowing teeth. She’s got a slight hunch to her back and nails with overgrown cuticles. You try to do a mental calculation of what you could buy this building for, to ensure that this sweet old lady never has to work a day in her life ever again. 

“You know what I want, Mrs. Kimura.” Gojo is giving her one of his signature dazzling smiles. “You can just double the portions today since my friend Utahime here eats enough for a family of five.” 

Mrs. Kimura lets out a throaty laugh. Utahime kicks Gojo in the shin from underneath the table. You’re wondering what Gojo orders from this place, and why does he order here so often to the point of them memorizing his meals? 

“I’m glad you brought friends with you today, Satoru. Meals always taste better when shared with loved ones!” She directs a warm smile in your direction, and you feel bad for returning it with your normal polite one. Tiny and brief. It’s more muscle memory than born from any real emotion. She’s shuffling away to the kitchen before you can try to summon a genuine smile for her, and Utahime’s phone is ringing, filling this near empty space with the tinny, anxiety-inducing sound of an iPhone ringer. 

She doesn’t excuse herself; just looks down at the glowing screen, grabs her phone, and heads outside to take the call.

Which leaves you sitting across from Gojo. Just the two of you. Just the two of you in a dingy restaurant seemingly run by only one old woman. The table looks older than you. The chair you’re sitting on makes a weird squeaky noise with any slight movement of your body. There’s no decor on the walls, no windows either. Nothing to distract you, nothing for you to feign interest in as you wait for Utahime to come back. 

You straighten your posture, try to discreetly look out the front door to gauge how close Utahime is to wrapping up her conversation, and find yourself with no choice but to look in front of you. All you see is Gojo.

He’s tall, you know that. Broad shoulders. Definitely not hideous, you can give him that much. You just feel shocked at how much space he takes up, how it feels like your eyes have to stretch to try to accommodate all of him. 

You don’t know why you feel so awkward, almost like a teenager going on her very first date with a boy she barely knows but still, for some inexplicable reason, wants so badly to impress. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt this way, and you definitely don’t like this feeling at all. 

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“I like to support small businesses.” He’s not teasing you, but Gojo has this bad habit of always adding a playful inflection to his words. 

“I hope you tip well. You look like their only supporter.” It’s not meant to be an insult to the painfully empty restaurant. You know how much Gojo is worth; when Itadori Googled “Satoru Gojo net worth” and showed the results to everyone, Gojo caught him in the act, looked at the top result, and threw his head back in laughter as he told Itadori to “add an extra zero and triple the number.” You think back to your calculation and assessment of the place. “Might as well buy the business.” 

“You make capitalism so cute.” He has to be teasing you now. You scowl. 

(He means it.)

— i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed, satoru gojo elevator pitch: yandere gojo, royal au, nanny!reader... yeah idk what happened to this fic either, just that it was depraved and i wish i wrote more to share LOL

You’re acutely aware of the noise you’re making, every huff and small, desperate gasp for breath only further betraying your location, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You know, deep inside your pounding, frightened heart, that it doesn’t really matter how fast or how far you run. 

I will always find you.

Just the mere thought of him is enough for you to ignore the ache in your legs and push forward. If you can find the exit, if you can just see the daylight, surely you’d be able to—

You stop in your tracks.

There are two paths: one right, one wrong. Left or right? Freedom or imprisonment? 

There’s no time to waste, but you can’t make a choice. Which decision would be the right one? Surely either route would still be able to lead you to the exit, right? The sharp snap! of a branch being trampled on leaves you even more frightened. Without thinking, you take a left.

— i think you're too divine for my human mind, undecided elevator pitch: rough around the edges but w a heart of gold underground fighter!character x ring girl!reader. i think this was gonna be for bakugo LMAO but i do not have bnha brain rot so maybe a bllk or jjk or hq boy... NO ONE SAY ATSUMU I DON'T WANNA GIVE IT TO ATSUMU

The couch seems to shift with his weight, and you swallow hard, staring straight ahead at the same cement wall you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes because you’re still too much of a fucking wimp to navigate this area by yourself. 

Despite the two of you sitting at opposite ends of the couch, there’s only about one foot of space separating his knee from yours. You suppose that he gets away with the manspreading since he probably has no qualms with punching anyone who voices their offense. After witnessing just how brutal the infamous [ring name nickname] can get, you know that you’re definitely not going to be the one to say shit to him. You can’t even look at him.

Where the fuck is your sister? You have your arms crossed, covering your torso, and you think you must have subconsciously pressed yourself as far back into the couch as you possibly could. Everything about you must scream out “she wants to disappear!!!”, and the worst part of it all would be the fact that it’s the truth. You knew coming down here would be a bad idea, and the sinking feeling of regret is practically solidifying itself into your stomach. You think you could throw up. 

“Hey,” a voice — a deep voice, scratchy and low and so scarily close to you — breaks the silence. “You must be…”

Of course, you’re used to it by now. Always being referred to as “Akemi’s little sister” no matter the situation, the person, the setting. It makes sense, you rationalize. Everyone knows Akemi. And so, by extension, they must know you — her shadow, her little sister. 

“...helped out Sakura.” 

“What?” You don’t know anyone named Sakura, but you finally turn your head to properly look at him as you answer. He’s got on a white shirt now, incredibly form-fitting, and he’s staring right back at you. You're quick to meet his eyes before getting too nervous and focusing on the space just below his eyes. Then, that becomes too close to eye contact for comfort, so you settle for staring at his jaw. It’s a nice jaw. Sharp. He could probably cut you with it if you contradict any of his statements, so maybe you should pretend to know this Sakura girl. 

“You must be the girl that helped out Sakura.” He repeats. He says it slow and almost carefully, like he thinks you must be some sort of idiot who can’t comprehend the most basic of statements. “Gave her your jacket.” He clarifies, and it makes sense. The girl with the hot pink colored hair must have been Sakura. 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

“So why are you here?” 

“Huh?”

“Y’know… Pretty girls like you don’t normally end up here without a reason. So what’s your reason?”

He says it so casually, throwing it out there as easily as a punch. He probably means nothing deep by it, probably doesn’t even realize the fact that it is a compliment. 

He called you pretty.

“My sister.” You answer, finally looking away at him to look down at your hands that have settled nicely into your lap. Your cheeks feel a lot warmer than they did a second ago. You decide to blame this as a result of too many sweaty people in one basement. 

“She a ring girl?” 

“She’s dating a fighter here.”

“And you?”

“What about me?” 

“Are you dating a fighter here, too?” 

You look him properly in his face after that comment, almost resisting the urge to laugh. Fear that he’ll get offended and smack you into the floor stops that reaction. Instead, you stare at him, slightly surprised, lips almost curled up into an amused smile at just how unbelievable it would be for you to date anyone like him. 

“You finally did it.” 

“Did what?” 

“Look at me.” He holds eye contact, almost as if he’s trying to challenge you into looking away. “I don’t bite, y’know.” He smiles, showing off a surprisingly straight row of white teeth, not a single tooth missing despite the nature of his… job. “It’s against the rules.”

Yeah. Because [character], the fucking [ring name nickname], looks like the type of man who follows the rules.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hii :) i love ur fics & i was wondering if you could do childhood friends to lovers with friends to lovers w/ miles morales (e-1610) where they're mutually pining but think that they don't feel the same but literally EVERYONE else sees it. bonus points if there's a confession in the rain or an accidental confession while crying when one of them gets seriously injured. sorry if my ask is either too descriptive or not descriptive enough thank you for your time <33

(Hello! Of course I can, lovely! Enjoy!)

Taglist

Frontline Confessions

Your guys' crushes on each other was practically orchestrated by y'all's parents

They always knew you guys would in some way like one another

You guys were best friends growing up, never leaving each other's sides

You also forced your parents to be friends just so you guys could hang out even more

You guys were always connected by the hip

If one was near the other was following closely behind

Miles and you always shared everything, sometimes you would come home at like 6 and your parents would be like

"Whose sweater is that?"

"Miles!"

And look at each other knowingly

Rio and your mom were mostly excited, as Rio wholeheartedly approved of you as she thought of you like a bonus child

Everyone could tell you two liked one another, it was no secret

But you guys didn't even know you had feelings until you guys got older

Miles would do anything for you

And I mean anything

Constantly sketching you, you and him as a photo on his lockscreen, he was bursting at the seems trying to keep it in he was Spider-man, but you found out

You guys had those little kid marriages under the slides at recess

You and him fended off childhood bullies or one who teased you guys

Only you two needed each other honestly

You guys obviously had other friends but always were each other's number one

The one to walk with you anywhere just to hold your hand

You guys had "platonic" affection but really just acted together

So many people thought you two were dating when they saw you guys

Ganke actually thought you were dating for like 6 months

You guys denied it over and over but couldn't help but wonder if you guys would ever actually date

His mom was constantly teasing him about you

Half of your closet was really his because he knew he wasn't getting them back

You guys were always out with one another, getting food, hanging on top of rooftops, sneaking away from your parents

He sometimes swung you around on his web shooters

You guys would also hang out at Uncle Aaron's apartment

You were there with the good and the bad

And Miles really needed you in the bad

He was always outside knocking on your window, or sneaking inside or just standing in front of your apartment door

You guys had movie marathons or pulled out old photos of you two when younger

"Look at your missing tooth!"

"Well, look at this horrible ponytail! What is this?!"

"You cut off half of it!"

"Oh, right-"

You guys always were seen giggling, holding each other or laughing your heads off

Everyone would look and know

Begging to be put out their misery

Confessions didn't happen for a long, long time, until a certain time you were almost bleeding to death

"Holy- I'm so sorry, (Name)!"

Miles panicked, by your side and spitting out apologies as you bled, holding your newly adorned soon-to-be battle scar.

"Are you okay?" Miles asked, glancing behind himself as Peter fought, Gwen and the rest of your friends desperately trying to keep up without you guys.

"Are you okay to fight?" Miles asked, grimacing at you and even more so at the look you gave him.

"I think I'm dying, Miles!" You yelled, holding your side in the pain as Miles tried to help stop the bleeding.

"Don't die! You can't die!" Miles said once more, trying to convince himself more than your blood piled beneath you.

"Why not? I'm gonna anyway!" You bickered back, much less concerned for your wound than Miles.

"Because I still have something to still tell you!" Miles tried once more, his own small tears in the corners of his eyes at the thought.

He couldn't lose you.

"Tell me then! What's the point of holding it in now?!" You continued on, shaking your head as your hand was almost coated red.

"I can't!"

"Why not?!"

"Because I'm scared you won't like it." Miles revealed, shaking his head as you gave a look of disbelief.

"Who cares! I'm dying." You countered.

"I like you! I've liked you since we were kids! And I don't want you to die because I'm scared!" Miles yelled back, looking down at his hands as they both tried to stop the blood, making it better, somewhat.

Miles then noticed his mistake, not able to take back his words but instead being able to slowly look up at you, grimacing at himself.

You couldn't help but stare at Miles, barely believing your ears, much less now.

Much less with the boy you had liked since you were kids.

"...you like me?"

"...yeah."

Miles stared at you for a moment, like the world went away as he took in your face as you spoke.

And suddenly, Miles laughed.

Miles laughed hard, the tears in his eyes turned to relief as he laughed. As your best friend, and maybe now more, laughed, you couldn't help but join in.

Miles then took a moment, turning it over in his head before he launched forward, bringing you in closer to him.

You and Miles stared at each other, closer than normal, then suddenly, you couldn't help but lean in and kiss him, one you wanted to do for so long.

The kiss wasn't long, but it was waited for, dreamt about and slow and passionate, lips moving together almost like they were meant to be.

Miles pulled away, not away from you but away enough he could laugh, smiling in victory.

"Have you wanted to do that for as long as I have waited to do that?" You laughed at the both of you, and so did Miles as he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah I have." Miles shook his head, the same smile there as he hugged you, arms around your waist as he almost pulled you into his lap, but stopped.

"Ow, ow, ow!" You cried out, punching his arm, cause even if you liked each other, you were still best friends, and friends hit.

"I'm sorry! Shit! I'm sorry!" Miles cried out, wincing as he looked at the blood on his arm, wiping it away quickly.

"We gotta get you out of here." Miles said, tucking his arm under yours and starting to lift you to your feet, a bit too rough at your circumstances.

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Don't make me leave you here!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagslist:

@mushystrawberries

@sweetheartlizzie07

[messedupfan]

The Hope of a Free World: The Tribute

Summary: In this version of the story, you were the one chosen to go into the Hunger Games to help carry out the plan.

A/n: So a little explanation here. You do not have to read both "The Mentor" and "The Tribute" but you do have to read "The Setup." This is sort of my version of a Choose Your Own Adventure because I saw this going both ways when the request was made. You are absolutely welcome to read both versions of the story, but thought I'd let y'all know that you don't have to. I also forgot to warn y'all before but I'm a huge Everlark fan. If you stan Everthorne, not the fic for you.

Warnings: Violence, mentions of suicide, alcoholism, drug abuse, mentions of forced prostitution, rebellion, mentions of torture.

Masterlist | The Prologue | All Stories Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell declared that the tributes would be pulled from the existing pool of victors, you were itching for a drink. No, you were itching for the drug you take when you have to entertain a client you don’t like. You wanted to feel numb. You didn’t want to think about having to experience the anxiety of a reaping once again. You’ve only been a victor for four years. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

You had tuned in only to vote on the dress for Katniss Everdeen to wear for her upcoming nuptials. Not to find out that you have a chance at dying in the arena again.

You don’t alter your mind to escape the harsh realities. As much as you want to. You made promises to take better care of yourself. Especially after almost revealing your secrets to the wrong person while in a drunken stupor. As soon as the broadcast is over, Finnick storms into your house and pulls you out. You can hear Annie’s cries from the house they shared. It was the only home in the Victor’s Village that had all of its hidden recording devices removed. He threw you on the couch as he began to pull on his hair and mutter to himself. “Mags,” he left and returned with the older woman a few minutes later. That was everyone he could trust in the district. 

Finnick doesn’t say anything coherent at first, mostly muttering to himself as his girlfriend is hysterical. He gives Annie a heavy dose of sleep syrup and he carries her to bed when it kicks in. “It’s better if she remains in the dark,” he says as he sits in front of you and Mags. She was a sweet woman, she didn’t deserve this unfair ruling for the Games either. She shouldn’t have to go through a reaping. “Mags already knows this but I haven’t been transparent with you about the rebellion. This is happening because we’re trying to free the districts.” 

“How do you plan to do that from inside the arena? Do you realize how unfair this is for those teenagers that won last year? They just got out!” You stand up, upset on their behalf. “Katniss is the only female tribute for that district! Did the rebels think about that when deciding to throw us back in there?” 

“We decided that it was in everyone's best interest that she returned to the Games,” Finnick stated calmly. 

“I find it hard to believe that girl agreed to that,” you scoffed with a scowl. 

“She doesn’t know anything about the rebellion,” he admits. “She doesn't know about any of this and for her safety, it's best that she doesn't.” 

You shake your head. You don't understand how knowing nothing keeps people safe. It looks like it's putting people in dangerously compromising positions. “Like you said I was better off I don't know anything either! Why are you even telling me about this?” 

“Sit down,” Mags demands and even with how fired up you are, you do as she says. She hardly ever demanded anything, so you respect when she does. “Listen,” she points to Finnick and with a huff, you nod. 

“I'm telling you this because I need you to be the one to go into the Games. Mags will go in as well because she is loved by so many.” Finnick maintains eye contact with you as he tells you the plan and the reason. “People in the Capitol don't care about random tributes because they don't know them. They don't see them as people until they win. They think they know us. They claim to love us. Well, we're going to make them question everything.” 

“I still don't think it's fair for Katniss and Peeta. They have worked too hard to just be thrown back in.” You shake your head. 

“You don't get it,” Finnick says as he leans closer. “Katniss is the face of this thing. What she did with those berries was inspiring. The Capitol tried to trick her and she refused to play that game. She has to be put back in there. We're hoping that Peeta doesn't land in there again, but according to Haymitch that boy is going to be determined to go. He says it's up to Effie for that one.” 

“Is Effie a part of it too?” You ask. Finnick shakes his head. “But Haymitch is,” you ask as you try to put the prices together. He nods. “Why do you want me to go into the arena?” 

“We are going to need your help to get them out of the arena. I was going to do it but with Annie… I can't risk her getting caught by Snow. I know how to get us out of there.” Finnick says with pleading eyes. 

You nod in understanding. “I have people I care about too,” you remind him. 

“Don't worry about Wanda. She can handle herself,” he says vaguely. You don't say it, but that confirmed your suspicion that she was part of it. You couldn't believe it. There really was a rebellion. The only question was whether or not you were willing to risk your life for the cause. You look at sweet old Mags, who has already committed to the cause. There was no guarantee she'll survive long enough to see the plan through. She had to have known that. This woman possibly only had a few more good years in her and the fact that was willing to sacrifice that, helped you make your decision. 

“I'm in,” you state. 

At the reaping you stood tall and confident as you think about the last night you spent with Wanda. It wasn’t an easy arrangement, as many of your clients were hoping for a last visit with you, but she was able to get you to the Capitol a few weeks before the reaping. After that night with Finnick, the two of you trained together everyday leading up to the reaping. The pair of you were already in shape but it had been ten years since Finnick was in the Games. Neither of you has had to fight since your respective times in the arena. He might not be going into the Games but he was going to need to be ready to fight when he officially became a soldier for District 13. Your head nearly spun off your neck when he confirmed that the district was alive and well. 

“Y/n Y/l/n,” the escort, Dove, reads solemnly. She had been the district's escort for the past four years, you were her only victor and the two of you had respect for each other. You stood forward, no one was going to volunteer in your place. You knew that.

“Annie Cresta,” despite knowing the plan, it shook you to your core to hear her name being called again. She had already had major setbacks since the announcement. You can't imagine what this is going to do for her. Mags promptly volunteers in her place and the three of you are off to the Capitol to prepare for the Games. 

“3… 2… 1!” As soon as the gun goes off, you jump in the water and swim to the center of the arena. You climb onto the platform and grab a trident as fast as you can. But as you do so, Katniss has an arrow pointed at you. 

You hold up your wrist to show her the bracelet of golden flames. “It's a good thing we're allies, right?” You state with a smirk. You were reluctant when they brought you the bracelet. You didn't want to go in there without your medallion but when Finnick offered to give it to Wanda, you felt more comfortable going in with the bracelet. You did after all have to gain Katniss's trust. 

She scowls at you, not dropping the arrow pointed at your chest. “Where did you get that?”

“Where do you think?” Flash from District 5 comes up behind her. “Duck,” you warn her before throwing your trident at the jerk that used to make crude comments about Wanda. You couldn't do anything about it at the time. But you weren't going to be haunted by this death. You gave Katniss directions to find Peeta and Mags as you pulled your weapon out of the body and tossed him into the water. Looking around the arena, you tried to find the tree that Finnick stressed to you how important it was. It was difficult to know which tree he was talking about because the first part of your task being difficult enough. You swear that Snow might’ve offered extra incentives and put a target on Katniss and Peeta.   

Even with the poison fog that took Mags life and the killer monkey’s that nearly killed you and the assets, you didn't regret agreeing to put yourself in this unpredictable hell hole until the jabberjay hour. You followed Katniss when she heard her sister screaming for her to make sure that she never left your sight. The both of you were relieved for a split second seeing that it was only the bird. But the history of the bird caused your heart to drop as soon as you heard Wanda crying out for you. No. How could he know? 

“Wanda!” You couldn't stop yourself from calling out to her in fear that she was dumped in the arena or worse. 

“Y/n, it's just a jabberjay! It's not real,” Katniss tried to remind you in your panic. 

“Jabberjays copy, Katniss!” You shouted back at her as you kept your eyes in the sky. “Where do you think they got that sound?” More birds appeared. More voices calling out to her than for you. For you it started with Wanda then Annie was added as well as Finnick. For an hour, you and Katniss sat together hearing tortured cries of loved ones trying to convince yourselves it wasn't real. Peeta sat desperately on the other side of the forcefield trying to ground Katniss to reality. 

When it was over, you sat in the water to comfort yourself. It was something you were used to doing back in District 4. You needed to get out of there. You were done playing these games. You needed to be in Wanda's arms, not in here babysitting. 

The plan was difficult to execute when the time came because Katniss and Peeta still didn’t trust you or Johanna. Granted, separating the two so close to the end did seem a little suspicious. But neither of them knew that they needed to have their trackers cut out and there wasn’t a way to tell them. You and Johanna knew what had to be done. You should have been prepared for Peeta to run when heard a cannon go off. Despite trying to convince him that it wasn’t a cannon for Kantinss. Peeta ran away from you before you could cut out his tracker. You looked at Beetee for too long to make the decision to run after the boy because by the time you started chasing him, it was already too late. He was gone. “Shit,” you hissed under your breath. 

You kept on searching for him but it was difficult in the dark. It was too close to midnight and if Beetee was able to fry the system on time, you needed to make sure Peeta was untraceable to the Capitol. When you couldn't find him you started to look for Johanna and Katniss in the hopes that he found them. In the time you’ve gotten to know him, it was abundantly clear to you how much he truly loved Katniss. You thought the puppy love was cute until it disrupted the plan.

“Johanna!” You shouted into the jungle but you were met with silence. So you kept running. But the arena was still active and you didn't want to end up stuck in the wrong hour. You needed to be close to the lightning tree. So you made your way back. Hoping that the rest of them were there as the agreement was to meet back at the tree. 

They needed to be there. 

Instead, you only found Katniss with her bow drawn. This was not going according to plan. Thunder began to warm the arena that the lightning was about to strike the tree they had wrapped with a wire. The fake plan was they were going to use it to electricute the other tributes by putting one end of the wire in the water. So that when the lightning struck the tree, the electricity would run through and kill anyone that was on the beach or hiding in the water. The real plan was that Beetee was supposed to throw a spear into the forcefield that kept everyone trapped in the arena and destroy it. Giving the rebels enough time to rescue the tributes inside. 

“Remember who the real enemy is!” You shout as Katniss still holds her aim at you. Haymitch told you to say that to her just in case she tried to kill you. He claimed it would help. You can't tell from the distance but Katniss develops a plan herself as she quickly wraps the wire around her arrow as lightning starts to shine from the thunder clouds. You're about to warn Katniss to get away from the tree when Peeta tackles you from behind. 

The lightning struck the tree as she let the arrow fly and you wrestled with Peeta. With a knife you tried to take the tracker out of his arm but the blast caused him to fly backwards. He had hit you pretty hard when you were beneath him. It made you dizzy when you tried to walk and find him. Pieces of the arena came crashing down making it impossible to get to him safely. You had to accept your failure in the mission as you cut out your own tracker. You screamed in agony as you dug out the small piece of technology and crushed it between two rocks. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the unmarked hovercraft come in to collect everyone. You made your way closer to where Katniss laid to ensure your rescue. 

That’s when a branch broke off and knocked you to the ground. 

The actual revolution was slow moving because the face of the rebellion was indisposed. Being traumatized by arena’s one after the other had a major part in why she would scream in the middle of the night. Finding out about her home district being completely obliterated because of her actions, weighed heavy on her shoulders. It didn’t help that Johanna hit her so hard in the head with the coil of wire befe she removed the girl’s tracker. Knowing Johanna she would probably claim it was the only way but you also knew that she found Katniss irritating. Johanna is not one to give up an opportunity when it presents itself. Unfortunately, that gave Katniss the ability to constantly be heavily medicated in order to heal. The medications had side effects. One of them being hallucinations. You knew because you had to deal with it yourself in the first few months after being rescued. 

The only bright side of it all was that you had been successful in acquiring both assets. So at night when Katniss would scream her head off and disrupt everyone’s sleep, it was Peeta who was the only person that had been able to get her to stop. He would sneak out of his room and slip into hers. After a few minutes, the only sounds that would be heard throughout the infirmary were the steady beats of the heart monitors. He always snuck back into his room before the hospital staff did their morning rounds. 

You were envious of them. Not everyone that needed to make it out did. For the arena, Johanna as well as a few of the other remaining tributes had been taken by the Capitol. You could only imagine what they were doing to her there. Whatever it was, she didn’t deserve it. Outside of the arena, the list of those that couldn’t escape was worse. They captured Wanda. 

The way Finnick explained it, someone must have tipped off the Peacekeepers about their plans to escape. A swarm of white armor came after them and Finnick and Haymitch wouldn’t have made it out were it not for her sacrifice. She held the Peacekeepers off of them long enough for them to get out. Neither of the men could confirm whether or not she was still alive. Last you heard, the Capitol spies they still had didn’t have an answer either. 

You hoped that they would show her on a broadcast the way they showed Johanna a couple of times. Wanda was a popular interviewer. Not as popular as Caesar Flickerman, but she was popular enough to make a comfortable living. Popular enough that her disappearance wouldn’t go unnoticed. All you could do was hope that they would broadcast her at some point.

As much as you wanted to hate Finnick for losing her in the midst of the escape, you couldn’t. Annie was amongst those captured by the Capitol. He went a little mad when he got the news. He was also in the infirmary because of a failed suicide attempt. You didn’t think his mental state was that bad until you heard his screams, begging the doctors to let him die.

When you finally got well enough to walk around and move out of the infirmary, you still spent a lot of time there. It started with visiting Finnick, tying knots together. He was only allowed a short rope to prevent him from hanging himself with it. He only spoke once to let you know, “I wish they were dead. Annie and Wanda. And I wish we were too.” You couldn’t disagree. Anything was better than the mental torment of not knowing what is happening to them. Of not being able to protect them from the horrors. 

Instead of allowing the mental images keep you down and eat you alive, you use it as a motivator. The second you were cleared for training, you worked ten times harder than everyone there. It wasn’t a difficult adjustment because your father had you enrolled in the Hunger Games training academy when you were eight years old. It was intensive training. In fact you found the District 13 military training to be light work comparativly. Which allowed you to excel. While your fellow victors wasted away in the infirmary, you got stronger and better. Because if your Wanda is dead, you weren’t going to let her death be in vain. You were going to make certain that it meant something. 

Eventually, you got fed up waiting for Katniss and Peeta to get over themselves and get to work so you started to visit with them when you weren’t training. Which was difficult at first. Every morning there was a strict schedule printed on your forearm. Every minute was accounted for in the day. It wasn’t until you had a chat with Haymitch and Plutarch that you were able to get time allotted for the visitations in exchange for filming propaganda, or propos as Plutarch nicknamed them, and getting the Mockingjay out of the infirmary. 

They wanted you to focus on Peeta first. Haymitch said he was the one out of the two that was easier to work with. That he would be more willing to help with the cause. Outside of his low list of injuries, Peeta had it pretty rough. Unlike Katniss, his parents and his brothers didn’t make it out of District 12 in time. Leaving him orphaned. He was wallowing in his grief for longer than you think he should have. The only time he ever got out of bed was when Katniss needed him at that’s it. You were frustrated as you tried to redirect his sorrow into a fire that will burn down the Capitol and all of its corruption. You understood his pain better than most. But he needed to understand why he needed to get to work so that the person responsible for his losses can be held accountable. But it was clear there was something, or more accurately someone, that could snap him into action. 

Katniss was also a piece of work in your opinion. The first time you tried to talk to her about attending a strategy meeting, she had you removed from her room. You knew that you couldn’t convince her by treating her like a fish when using a spear. You had to be more patient. You had to think of it as waiting for a fish to get caught on your hook. But patience was difficult when is came to Katniss. She didn’t have the same excuses that Peeta used. She had her sister, her mother, and the boy that was publicly known as her cousin. Unless the rumors of District 12 having an incest problem are true, you don’t believe that he is her cousin with the way you’ve seen him moon over her. There are rumors that she is conflicted between the two and you don’t know why she wastes time fooling herself into thinking she can’t choose between him and Peeta. 

You’ve gotten to know Gale a bit in training and because you live in the corridor where unmarried individuals are given living quarters, you have seen him slipping out of girls' rooms most nights. He might have feelings for the girl on fire, but he definitely isn’t waiting around for her to commit to him. You were team Peeta all the way, you liked the baker better than the hunter. He was much kinder. Plus, you and Gale tended to butt heads a lot when you started to visit Katniss because of what you know about him. 

One incident in particular secured your low opinion of him. You were visiting Katniss during the lunch hour. You had her tray of food along with yours because you intercepted it from the nurse that was supposed to bring it to her. 

“You have to make a choice, Katniss. Him or me?” Gale demanded. The poor girl was pulling on her hair when you pressed the button to open the door. “Do you mind? We’re having a-”

“You’re done here,” you said in a firm tone as you stood tall. Gale’s frown deepened as he continued to glare at you. “It’s not a request, it’s an order.” Gale knew that you outranked him and since he had just been demoted – he prevented Commander Boggs from stopping Katniss from storming out of the first meeting she attended – he knew he couldn’t push his boundaries with you. He didn’t even possess a communicuff anymore. 

With a heavy sigh, he glanced at you and then Katniss before he stormed out. You whistled, “That guy is a piece of work.” You set her tray on the table that hovered over her bed when positioned properly. The meals had no flavor but they were nutritious and filling. Designed to keep their citizens, or soldiers as you referred to them, healthy. It wasn’t great but it was still better than what the Capitol ever did for its districts. 

“He saved my family,” she muttered as she sat up to eat her meal. You scoffed. 

“Katniss, I protected your life the entire time we were in the arena,” you started, “Are you in love with me?” She chewed her food slowly before she silently shook her head. You’re surprised that she actually had to think about it. Teenagers, you thought to yourself as you got situated in your seat to start eating with her. “Hell, I gave Peeta mouth to mouth and saved his life. Has he come in here in the middle of the night and told you that he was confused about me?” You asked and didn’t miss when her cheeks flushed. Even through everything, she still had a purity to her. You’re happy that Snow never got the chance to rob her of that. 

“No,” she whispered. 

“There you go,” you stated and sat back and reflected for a moment before continuing. “You don’t owe me or anybody else anything, Katniss. I hope you know that.” She stared directly at you for a bit after you said that. It was the first time you really got to see how young she was. You knew she was young but through all of her brave actions and the makeup they caked onto her for interviews, you couldn’t really see it. No one could. That was part of the problem with the Hunger Games and the Capitol lifestyle. “Eat before your slop gets cold,” you pointed at her tray with your spork. “Trust me, you think it’s bad warm. You don’t want to have it cold.” 

She moves the food around before taking another bite. “I want to hunt,” it was the first time she expressed something you could use. 

“Tell you what,” you said as you finished your food. “You pass your health exams and I will personally arrange a hunting day for you. But I don’t think they will let you keep the game.” 

She shrugged, “I don’t mind that. I think it’ll be good to do something.”

“It’s a deal then,” you said while collecting her empty tray. You held your free hand out to her and she shook it. That began the small tradition of the two of you making small deals with each other each day. The both of you always fulfilled your promises to each other. She moved out of the infirmary at the end of the next week and into the living quarters with her mom and sister. In the middle of the week after, you arranged for her and Peeta to visit District 12. To remind them who the real enemy was. 

You opted to stay in the hovercraft in the air. Gale did the same, unfortunately. He kept trying to join her but she’d put him in his place. You were proud. Katniss came back from her mansion with, amongst other belongings, an ugly cat that she claimed was the apple of her sister's eye. You encouraged her to make her own demands with President Coin when she asked you if it will be a problem to have Buttercup with them in 13. 

Which she did. She included immunity for those captured by the Capitol and you thanked her after the announcement with a visit with Beetee. She had no idea what she did for you with that condition. In the lab, Beetee presented her with a special bow designed for her along with a small selection of special arrows. One type lights with flames and catches its target on fire. Another was explosive. And lastly, there were arrows that were charged with an electric current strong enough to give its victim a heart attack no matter where the arrow pierced them. She only needed the plain ones to hunt. 

Your propos were still the only ones being broadcast but they weren’t nearly as inspiring or as exciting as Katniss could be with the right motivation. However, they seemed to cause enough of a stir that after helping Katniss deliver a couple of heavy elks to the kitchen, you finally see Wanda on the screen for the first time in months. She’s alive, was your first thought. 

Your heart nearly stopped at the sight. She was skinnier than before. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. She had on her vibrant red wig and heavy makeup as well as a ridiculous outfit. Something she’d never have as part of her wardrobe. You went from sharing a laugh with Katniss to nearly falling to your knees in front of one of the many screens airing the interview with, “Wanda.” You said in a broken whisper.

Katniss’s eyes stopped mid roll as she realized that the woman on the screen wasn’t just Wanda Maximoff, gossip journalist that once asked her if she was popular with the boys back home. But she was the Wanda. Your Wanda. You shook your head. Hoping that it was just a hallucination. It couldn’t be real. If she was dead that meant she wasn’t being tortured. 

“Ms. Maximoff, you had quite the reputation here in the Capitol. Why risk it for something so frivolous?” Caesar asked as the camera cut to him. He looked clean and healthy, with a new dye job. It was infuriating.

“It wasn’t… I wasn’t…” she fiddled with cards in her hands and you braced yourself for the lies she was about to be forced to say. Off camera, Caesar quietly implored Wanda to continue. “I um. My emotions, they were,” tears gathered in her eyes. She was a stubborn and strong willed woman. She hated the person she had to be for entertainment. “Y/n,” she squeaked your name out. “They made me believe that we could be together. If I… If, if we…” 

“They deceived you,” Caesar tried to help her get through the script. 

Wanda shook her head ever so slightly, no one but you would be able to catch it. “Yes,” her voice was so quiet even the microphones couldn’t catch it. Caesar has her repeat herself. “Yes, I was deceived. Y/n made me believe they loved me even though they, they,” she got stuck, she couldn’t continue with the lie but for her safety, you knew she had to. You willed her to continue. “They would have relations with other people in the Capitol.” You shut your eyes tight, knowing how much she hated what Snow forced you to do.

Caesar hummed and you wanted to smash the screen in. He was one of the worst kinds of clients. He was greedy and had the strangest fetishes and kinks. It made you sick to look at him. “I see, and do you think they tried to con their other lovers into starting a revolution with them?” You scoffed, none of it was your idea in the first place. They were painting a picture as if you came up with the whole thing. 

Wanda took a deep breath and sighed through her nose. Then you saw it, she still had your medallion. It was around her neck, slightly hidden by the excessive fabrics on her dress. “I wouldn’t know,” her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and lifted her head. “I don’t think I knew them as well as I thought I did.” 

Caesar nodded, “Yes, I think we all feel that way, Wanda. I am so sorry to see you like this. You are a dear friend of mine.” His fake sincere act had you fuming. But all you could do was stand there and watch. Your worst nightmares had come to life. Seeing Wanda in pain and not being able to do a damn thing about it. “I believe you have a message for those in the districts.” Wanda nodded as she flipped through her cards. “For those who are confused by the lies that the rebels are telling. Please, speak about the generosity of the Capitol.” 

“I would um, I would like to say.” She cleared her throat again and looked into the camera. The life in her green eyes looked as though it had been sucked out. It pained you to see it. “I know that many of you might see me as a joke. That was my job. I have kept you entertained for years. You’ve brought me into your homes every day for an hour. You know my face. You know my voice. And I need you to hear me when I say,” a lost expression crossed her features for a moment. “When I say,” you shook your head as you recognized the defiance entering her eyes. You wanted her to stick to her cards. To read whatever they had written for her. “Keep on fighting until we are free!” 

There was a lot of commotion as they tried to shut the camera’s down and remove Wanda from the room. But she fought against them in an attempt to say more. Unfortunately, before she could, a Peacekeeper hit her with the butt of their rifle and knocked her out cold. 

“I have to get her out of there,” you muttered once the screen went black. You stormed out of the mess hall and Katniss followed you to talk you out of doing something stupid. But she wasn’t sure what she could say. She had her people. She didn’t know what it was like to be in your shoes. What it was like to watch the person you loved be badgered into lying about your character. About the love the two of you shared. Only to watch her possibly lose her life for the benefit of the cause. 

You weren’t the one to convince them to start a rescue mission for Wanda and the other hostages. It was Katniss and Peeta who stepped up to negotiate terms with President Coin and Commander Boggs. It started with making propos with them. Peeta was phenomenal. Katniss however… She needed a lot more help. At a certain point, Plutarch got fed up and settled for having just you and Peeta. Unfortunately, as much as the messages from you and Peeta might’ve gotten people out of bed in the morning, it wasn’t enough to get them to fight. To remind the people of Panem who the real enemy is. Haymitch was the one who pitched for the show ponies to be taken out into the field. President Coin was opposed to it but the former drunk was able to convince everyone else which allowed Commander Boggs to agree to a mission. 

In the outskirts of District 8 where they have an old warehouse is where they brought the three of you. Along with a twom man camera crew and their director, Cressida. Her assistant. Boggs. And much to your dismay, Gale. Katniss was surrounded the entire way inside of the old warehouse. No one saw her until you, Gale, and Boggs moved out of the way. Her and Peeta stood tall together. Gasps filled the building filled with injured unarmed men, women, and children. This was the first official citing of the Mockingjay. Kids ran up to hug her. Severely injured were wheeled up close to get a look at her. You could see that Katniss needed that visit as much as any of the people there. Someone asked about the baby. In the midst of everything, you had forgotten about the claim Peeta made the night before the Quell. 

You looked at him as Katniss said she lost the baby. Her voice cracking was convincing. Peeta cast his eyes down with a deep frown and you began to grow curious. Originally, you thought that it was a lie. In fact, you felt like you had to keep reminding her about her “condition” in the arena. But in that moment you questioned how much of their story was an act. Not much time could be spent there as everyone was alerted of hovercrafts appearing. The focus was to get the victors out of there. But you wanted to stay and fight. Katniss and Peeta did as well. Gale was just as ready as anyone. Commander Boggs had lost authority as soon as the hovercrafts became visible with the Capitol emblems painted on them. Katniss finally got to test out her explosive arrows. You and Peeta were in a separate area together, shooting at the aircrafts to try and redirect their attention from the makeshift hospital. Unfortunately, that appeared to be their goal. Not you. Not Peeta. Not even Katniss. 

Despite the team's efforts, those lives were lost.  Katniss gave a harrowing speech stating, “If we burn, you burn with us!” Plutarch almost crapped his pants when the footage came together for the propo. People were inspired. But Katniss suffered the losses the hardest. 

The two of you sat together in silence as she hid in your room from all of the commotion. People had been dropping off gifts at her family’s living quarters. Peeta was moved in with them once he had gotten a clean bill of health since they were technically married. Lie or not. President Coin was not going to allow questions of their credibility. “Was there really a baby?” You asked. Katniss shook her head. 

“No,” she stated. “Peeta and I never,” she couldn’t finish the sentence as she blushed redder than Wanda’s wig. 

“What about you and grumpy?” You poked fun, it was just too easy to get her flustered. You were met with a glare so you held your hands up in surrender. There was another long stretch of silence before you got curious. “The secret wedding wasn't real either, right?” 

Katniss nodded, “All Peeta's ideas.” She cracked a smile as she looked at the wall of cement in front of her. “After, when we were back in the penthouse, he asked if he needed to apologize. I told him no.” You could tell she did care about Peeta a lot. When you had to save Peeta's life, you knew you misjudged her. But you can't help but feel a bit jealous that she has him here and you are without your Wanda. You are certain about your Wanda. 

“How's the fake married life treating you?” You asked teasingly to keep a playful energy instead of wallowing in your self pity. 

Katniss rolled her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t answer for a long moment. Then she sighed and said, “Not too bad actually.” She didn’t give any details because what she and Peeta do in private she holds sacred. You could understand because you’ve never shared stories about your time with Wanda. Not that anyone would have asked. 

The day you finally got reunited with Wanda was a bittersweet moment. She jumped into your arms as soon as she saw you running towards her. You kissed her and wanted to hold her tight but you were careful. She was thin, with cuts and bruises all over her face and body. Her right arm was crooked, like it had been broken and it didn’t heal properly. You didn't want to think about what they did to her but the evidence was all over her. You kissed her as you promised that you’d make all of them pay. She asked you to marry her. 

You said yes. 

Annie and Finnick were reunited as well. You hadn’t been able to visit with him much when you centered your focus on Katniss and Peeta but he looked healthy and he was steady enough to hold Annie in his arms. 

Johanna was amongst those that were rescued. There was no one to run to her. So you, Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta all made a point to welcome her. She flipped everyone off then pressed a button that administered morphine. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, everyone had to awkwardly shuffle out of the room. 

Gale was amongst the soldiers that volunteered and were approved to go on the rescue mission. You tried to go but Katniss and Peeta were tasked to keep you busy until the team had already left. You felt betrayed by the both of them but it was nice to have them by your side as you anxiously waited. 

With Wanda in District 13, you wanted to ignore your schedule and spend all of your time with her, but you couldn't. You had to keep your status if you were going to go to the Capitol and kill the Peacekeepers that did this to her. You wanted the pleasure of ending Snow's life yourself but it was obvious that there was a plan for the Mockingjay to have the honors. 

Wanda had to undergo surgeries to correct and help her injuries heal properly.  So it wasn’t like she was waiting for you in her room. While she was in surgery, you were in training. At night, you slept in a cot that Prim snuck into the room for you. She said that she owed you for bringing her sister not only out of the arena but back to herself. You shook her hand and declared that both of you were even. 

You were the first to mention to the people in the command room of your engagement and even offered to have the wedding televised on the condition that Annie and Finnick could have a private wedding. They deserved to continue to live in peace. Finnick hadn't made a public appearance since being in District 13 and Annie didn't need to be used as a pawn in these games anymore. Wanda was the one to suggest the wedding. She wanted to show Snow that nothing was going to get you, her, or this revolution down. 

The news of the wedding spread like a wildfire. The revolution has been so daunting that the citizens welcomed the chance to celebrate something. People would whisper in your presence and you had to awkwardly nod your way through the cafeteria as you picked up your meals before walking it to the infirmary to have the meal with Wanda. 

She blew you away with her strength. 

The first time she walked into the cafeteria, a man that was walking to a table dropped his tray off at the nearest one and ran towards her. You stood in front of her to protect her but she moved you and met him halfway. “Pietro!” She shouted with joy. You felt bad as you had forgotten about her twin brother. She'd tell you stories about him whenever the two of you took a stroll together. She told you once that he'd gotten himself in a lot of trouble with the government and the price to bail him out was too high. 

Luckily, because of her minor celebrity and her family’s status in the Capitol, she was able to barter to save him from becoming an Avox. Instead, he was forced to serve as a Peacekeeper in District 12. He was ranked pretty high in District 13 on arrival, not only for his experience as a Peacekeeper but because he helped Gale get people out of 12. You couldn't believe that you had been training with him for months and neither of you had said a word about Wanda. It was probably for the best at the end of the day. Neither of you needed to distract one another with the fears and grief. 

The three of you found somewhere to sit together and you let the twins get to catch up with each other. They were separated from each other for years. You were planning on spending the rest of your life with her, you were more than happy to third wheel the meal. 

On the day of the wedding, Katniss let it slip that Peeta had a surprise cake he’d been working on for you. She was helping you get ready because you'd asked her to be part of the wedding. You would have asked Finnick if he wasn't getting married as well and if he wasn't in hiding. At that point in the revolution, his disappearance was being used as a motivator since Finnick was a loved victor. He was meant to be hidden because he was believed to be dead. 

Katniss was confused at first when you asked her to officiate. She had assumed it would be led by Coin or an appointed official. You explained that it was a tradition that the bride and groom picked the person to officiate the wedding in District 4 to give it a more personal touch and she accepted. But she wished it was Peeta you had asked. She hated making public speeches and you knew that. You also knew that she would be able to deliver something inspiring and that she knew you better than Peeta did. 

You weren't wrong, she delivered a beautiful speech about the star-crossed lovers of Panem. The victor from District 4 and the woman they loved from the Capitol. She mentioned the bravery the pair of you had exhibited and that others could benefit from following the example. She went on to express the importance of this impossible unity love and encouraged the rest of the country to follow you and Wanda into a brighter future. That although the government had painstakingly painted those in the districts to be nothing more than animalistic slaves and declared that those in the Capitol were more deserving of comfortable or extravagant lives, the two of you saw past that false narrative and fought against the mandated division and saw each other as equals. As partners willing to risk their lives for one another. Something that the people in the districts, in the Capitol, and even those working as government officials or Peacekeepers, can find within themselves to see each other as equals as well and not see each other as an enemy or an abomination. That as a country, the people can come together and stop killing for a man that doesn’t care if his citizens live or die. 

Wanda went first in the exchanging of vows, she made everyone in attendance laugh with a couple of jokes about you and the way you charmed your way into her heart. Then she vowed to love and cherish you forever. She vowed to stay committed to only you as long as the both of you shall live. She vowed that she will stand by your side in sickness and in health. Finally, she said, “We came together in a time when we were constantly being kept apart. I am ready to get to know you not as the person you've had to become for others but as the person you are. Give me your bad hair days, your long rants and conspiracies, your burnt waffles, and lost socks. Give me your every day, and I will give you my love to make it all alright. You are my every dream come true, and I can't wait for the reality we get to build together once we are free. You make me laugh, you make me think of a brighter future, and above all, you make me happy. I love you.” 

“Wow,” you gasped as you wiped tears from your face. “Tough act to follow,” you stated, which caused laughter through the guests' tears. You told the story of how the two of you met. How she was barely making a name for herself as a reporter and that you were so intrigued by her that you agreed to sell out the victors you didn't get along with to help her career grow. You stated that you couldn't even apologize because it led to this moment. Your vows reflected hers when it came to the basics. 

You sighed as you looked down at your shoes for a moment. They were Peeta Mellark's. He insisted on a trip back to District 12 to pick up a suit for you and a dress for Wanda. You tried to talk him out of it, you would have hated for Peeta or Katniss to get caught or killed just so that you looked presentable for the wedding. Katniss convinced you to let them do it. Then she explained that Cinna and her prep team left behind the wedding gown options that they thought might win just in case. Wanda joined them and found one she liked and with Katniss’s help in the woods, they found materials to make enough red paint to splatter across the white fabric. It looked like she'd murdered someone. It made her look deadly. You loved it.

“Wanda,” you looked back up at her. “As someone that did their best to remain alone to protect innocent people, you snuck your way into my heart. I feared for a long time what would come of us if anyone found out that we were more than a prostitute and their buyer. But you weren't afraid. You have taught me that two people joined together with respect, trust, and open communication can be far stronger and happier than each could ever be alone. You are the strength I didn't know I needed and the joy that I didn't know I lacked. Today, I choose to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you more fiercely with every second that slips through our hands.” Even though the two of you had exchanged the term of endearment everyday since her arrival, it was still so refreshing and freeing to finally say the words out loud. “My darling, it's with pride and joy that I take you for my wife. Together, we can weather any storm, no matter the season of our lives. I have found my forever partner. With you in my life, I could never be lonely again. I'm in awe of you, our bond, and our potential. I promise to remain in awe while I cherish you for all the rest of our days.” 

The kiss you shared was one of the most magical you'd ever experienced up until that point. The cameras were shut down as you and Wanda made it look as though the two of you left the area. Once the cameras were off, that's when the Odair wedding began. Finnick and Annie asked you to officiate. So you did. You performed the wedding, not as well as Katniss did but your friends were satisfied with it. 

Afterwards, the two were excused to celebrate on their own accord while you and Wanda were expected to continue to put on a show for the cameras. Not that you minded, you were happy to be dancing with her in front of everyone instead of in the refrigerator light in the middle of the night. It was the perfect way to show the citizens of Panem that change was upon them. 

Within the next week you were being sent to the Capitol because Katniss decided to go a bit rogue and send herself into the battle. Gale was already stationed there along with Commander Boggs after a successful mission with District 2, so she had some allies that weren't quick to turn her in. But someone else was and to save face, Coin organized Squad 451, nicknamed the “Star Squad” as she also sent Peeta and the camera crew with you, even Johanna was being sent in. The squad was meant to be recorded, not meant to get caught in any real battle. You laughed as Johanna flipped off Castor and Pollux every time they pointed the camera at her. If this wasn’t war, you would have gaurenteed that merchandise of Johanna and her middle finger would have been the next big thing in the Capitol. 

Katniss was shocked to see you there because of the new marriage but you assured her that this is what Wanda wanted. “She was tortured and nearly gave her life in order to keep this fight going,” you stated as you spun the trident around in your hand to get used to it. “Can't go back until we're free. Those are her orders,” you grinned and leaned forward. “Besides, I kind of promised her a list of heads as souvenirs from this trip,” you winked.

“Better get to work then,” she nodded once before moving away from you to greet Peeta with a hug. She also hit him upside the head which made you chuckle. He apologized for being there but it wasn't up to him. The cameras were around but they weren't focused on them so when they shared a kiss, you couldn't tell if it was for show or for them. But you looked away and your eyes ended up on a somber Gale Hawthorne. He wasn't all bad, he was starting to grow on you as you could tell that he cared the only way he knew how. But he needed to realize that he needed to move on. Then you watched as his gaze began to follow Johanna and you scrunched your features. He couldn't handle her, you knew from experience. 

The mission ran long as the group of you were faking a lot of action to get footage while being safe until it no longer could be sustained. Peacekeepers found the Star Squad and led the group into a trap that cost half of the team. Biggs lost his legs because he stepped on a landmine. He transferred over the Holo to Katniss, a device only those in charge of a squad were given. Among many other features, it could project a holographic map and pinpoint the dangers around. Pods were what they were called because they could consist of any number of dangers. Unfortunately, it couldn't update as fast as the military could install them. 

The rest of the squad fled into the nearest building but one guy, Second Lieutenant Mitchell, got caught in a deadly net contraption that sliced him into pieces. Twin sisters that went by Leeg 1 and Leeg 2 got left behind because one of them  needed medical assistance and the rest of the unit needed to get out of there. Katniss claimed that she was sent there to kill Snow and although most - if not all - of the squad knew it was a lie, the unit backed her up against Lieutenant Jackson who tried to take over as the commanding officer after Boggs died. A call was made on the Leegs behalf to the rebels base and Homes volunteered to stay with them. 

When the remaining squad members were safe inside of a home that had been cleared out is when you find out that you were dead. That all of you were dead. A mandatory broadcast showed what you knew were the Leeg sisters and Homes firing at Peacekeepers out of the building you guys had to leave them in. The building was blown up by the Peacekeepers and your face was the first one to appear on the screen along with the sound of a cannon and the music that would play for fallen tributes in the Hunger Games. You’d have clapped at their theatrics if it wasn't inappropriate. 

President Snow appeared on the screen as he began to drone on and on about a cease fire. But he is interrupted by President Coin giving an almost convincing eulogy for Katniss. You turned your attention towards her as it went on and she rolled her eyes. The Mockingjay was dead. “Congrats,” you said as you nudged her shoulder. She shook her head which made you laugh as you finished the can of tuna you had raided from the cabinets. It reminded you of home. 

From there, more people were lost as the squad tried to move through the Capitol underground in order to get to Snow's mansion. The streets were flooded with pods, it was impossible to move through them and the rooftops were too risky. Underground tunnels were the only solution. Pollux was the one to lead the unit through because he used to work there when he was an Avox. Katniss stood close to him, scanning the area with the Holo for extra precaution. 

No one was prepared for the rush of events that took place all at once. Blood thirsty mutts flooded the tunnel system. It cost the life of Homes, Jackson, and Gale. He was the last one to go. Katniss had to drop the Holo on top of him as he was being eaten alive. “Nightlock, nightlock, nightlock,” she said to activate the self-destructive feature of the device. It blew up and the unit still had to run. You were cut up all over because those mutts had sharp nails. 

As soon as you guys were out of the tunnels Peacekeepers were waiting and ready. Firing at the squad on sight. Katniss used her explosive arrows while you used the handgun you were given in case you lost your trident, which you did during the mutt fight, while the rest of the squad used their machine guns. 

As the unit ran for their lives, deadly light beams shot out at random taking Messalla, Cressida’s assistant. It turned him into dust. At the example of the danger, everyone avoided the light. Once the team crossed over a short barrier, the floor began to disappear as it was being eaten away by spikes. Everyone made it past that into the safer area of what looked like a parking garage. 

“I know where we can hide,” Cressida announced as soon as she recognized her surroundings. Everyone followed her to a store and inside a woman that resembled an exotic animal let the team hide in her basement. 

Castor and Pollux patched you up to keep you from bleeding out. You had a lot of wounds that required both of them. Katniss sat in a corner with a lost look in her eyes. She'd lost Gale and so many other people because of a lie. So many lives have been lost because of her lies. Peeta sat beside her to try and comfort her. She allowed it until you started to scream because of the crappy job that Castor and Pollux were doing at fixing you up. They were much better filmmakers and soldiers than they were medics. 

Katniss got up and came over to help them. “This is all my fault,” she whispered with tears in her eyes as she looked over your irritated wounds. “I'm so sorry,” she looked around the room. Cressida was gathering supplies from Tigris for everyone. Johanna was undressing to assess the damages done to her body. Castor and Pollux were exhausted. Peeta was also injured but he hid his injuries to protect Katniss. 

“I lied,” she said. “Coin, she didn't send me I,” she looked down at you, covered in mostly your own blood. “I came on my own. I thought I could… Gale,” she stared at you, she was lost in grief and guilt. Peeta limped over to her. 

“Katniss,” he sighed before he gave a speech about the lives in the arena that had been taken because no one had ownership of their lives. That the lives taken in this war were given by choice. Then he helped her patch you up. You were grateful to be alive after all of that. But this war still needed to end. Snow still had to die. 

And he did. 

What was left of the Star Squad stormed Snow’s mansion and killed anyone that got in their way. Snow was sitting smugly in his office chair when the unit burst through the doors. Katniss shot an electric arrow through his eye and Johanna chopped his head off for good measure. Castor and Pollux live streamed the entire ordeal. 

“People of Panem,” Katniss said to the cameras. “We are free!” 

The entire country celebrated as those left in power surrendered. 

When things settled down, Coin asked the remaining victors to vote on the possibility of hosting a symbolic Hunger Games after she appointed herself as interim president. No one knew who slipped a nightlock pill in her tea. But no one accused or questioned anyone. Most people assumed it was Katniss and those present for the meeting assumed it was you. Neither of you confirmed nor denied the rumors. 

Katniss and Peeta returned to District 12 while her mom and sister stayed in the Capitol to get better acquainted with the vast medical knowledge in order to help train others to make healthcare affordable and accessible across the nation. 

After a lot of debate, you and Wanda moved into your house in District 4. Your argument was that you had an entire mansion that you didn’t have to pay anything on and she rented a townhome. She liked her house and her life in the Capitol but none of it mattered at the end of the day. Life there was never going to be the same. So she agreed. District 4 was her home. After the hidden survaliance devices were removed from the mansion, of course. 

The two of you got to know each other in ways you never could before. You found out what a slob she could be. Wanda would forget to throw dirty clothing into the hamper. Then she'd wear all of her clothes until she ran out. You would point to the overflowing hamper when When she was done using a dish, it would sit in the sink instead of rinsing it off and putting it in the dishwasher. She was used to having a servant to take care of little things like that. Wanda found out that you were a terrible cook and that you have terrible self care habits. The two of you figured out ways to balance each other out. 

At the beginning, you and Wanda spent a lot of time together. Basking in the honeymoon phase as long as possible. But eventually, reality caught up and the both of you realized that there was still so much work to be done in terms of rebuilding the country. As much as you felt that you shouldn’t have to do more, you were still in a better position than most. So, you and Wanda figured out a way to be involved in the process of helping those who needed it most in the New Panem and opened a rehabilitation center in District 4. 

It started with a way to employ those who needed work. If you couldn’t find them a job in District 4, you or Wanda would reach out to other districts and help them and their family relocate. After several years, it grew to so much more. Now, it’s became a center that helps those with addictions, therapy to process trauma, a safe haven for those sold into marriages that they didn’t want to be in anymore, a space for those who struggled with life before and after the war. Even though you could have easily decided to coast by in life with the money you still receive and will continue to receive from winning the Hunger Games, it didn’t feel right when so many people that barely had anything to begin with, were left with absolutely nothing. 

Her brother, Pietro, decided to stay in District 12. In his time before the war, Pietro met a woman that he fell deeply in love with. Much like you and Wanda, they couldn’t be together in the way that they wanted because it could have gotten them killed. She had broken things off with Pietro just before the bombing to protect him because one of the other Peacekeepers had threatened to expose them if she hadn’t. It wasn’t until well after the war was over that she was able to find and recconnect with Pietro. 

“You Maximoffs are suckers for us simple district folk,” you joked quietly to Wanda while the two of you sat in the audience of his wedding. It was held in District 12 with the local traditions of the district. 

“Shut up,” she said as she hid her amusement and carefully dabbed her tears away with your handkerchief. She was so touched by the ceremony. She still couldn’t believe that any of it was possible. She looked at you as she reminisced about the day the two of you made history by getting married. You put your arm around her shoulder and she snuggled against you as the ceremony continued.  

While the two of you danced at the reception a little girl crashed into your legs. “Uh oh,” you said softly as you helped her up. She was afraid at first but then she smiled as she apologized. “I’m Y/n, and your name is?” You asked politely. 

“Willow,” she responded quietly and you grinned as you recognized her from the photos you have of her. Katniss sent them to you because up until now, you hadn’t been able to make a trip out to District 12. Not since a couple weeks after she was born.  

“Well, Willow, I happen to be a good friend of your Mommy and Daddy. I haven’t seen you since you were a baby,” you said as you offered her your hand. “Let’s go find them, shall we?” Willow nodded as she took your hand. Wanda watched with a deep sadness as you interacted so happily with the little girl. It was hard enough to see you around Finnick and Annie’s children. When you returned to her, she knew what you were going to ask of her and she couldn’t give that to you. She knows that she should have told you years ago, but she hoped that there would be an advanced treatment that could reverse the damage. She developed a relationship with Primrose Everdeen because she was the one who had to give Wanda the news in District 13. 

Fortunately for Wanda, you didn’t bring up the subject until the two of you were alone in the hotel room. “Willow is a cute kid, isn’t she?” You asked as you climbed into bed next to Wanda. Your wife hummed as she went over the files she brought with her. “River and Marina are pretty cool too,” you put your hand on her abdomen and she took a deep breath as she braced herself. 

“I think we should have kids.”

“I can’t have kids.” The two of you talk at the same time. 

“What?” You remove your hand as you sit up. Shocked by the reveal. 

Wanda swallowed the lump forming in her throat and she set the file on the bedside table. “I was pregnant when the Peacekeepers took me. I uh… They um,” she couldn’t stop the tears from falling as her heart broke again from reliving the horrible memories. You didn’t let her finish, you just held her tightly as your heart broke from the news as well. You had no idea that this was something she went through. Amongst the list of horrible things that happened to her when she was captured, this wasn’t something you anticipated. “I’m sorry,” she eventually said. 

“It’s not your fault,” you kissed her on the forehead and decided then that you didn’t need kids. Wanda was all you would ever need. 

That rang true. As the years went on, you and Wanda were there for nephews and nieces. The work the two of you built together was very time consuming, it left room for very little and the two of you were more than willing to make that sacrifice. Together, you might not have been able to bring a life into the world but you managed to change so many lives that it didn’t matter. The two of you lived happily together until the day you died of old age in each others arms. A gift that was once a rarity in the country of Panem. The life that you and Wanda led together wouldn’t have happened had there not been the hope of a free world. Though significant sacrifices were made, you wouldn’t have changed a single thing. 

Or would you have?

The Mentor

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[cerridwen007]

Corruption of Innocence. Part 1.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader.

Word count: 5K (18+) minors dni!

Summary: You are the main topic of daydreams that have recently been flooding Matt's mind. Ever since he met you, you've held a strong place in his head. Every part of him has become obsessed with you, the thought of loving you, growing old together and the thought of taking your innocence for himself frequently saturate his thoughts. 

Notes/warnings: SMUT, horny af Matt, possessive/obsessive Matt, soft Matt, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), suggesting of p in v, power dynamic, unhealthy relationship, obsessive reader, sub reader, virgin reader, dom Matt, masturbation, dirty talk, no use of y/n.

A/N: Okay like I said in bio, I am quite new to tumblr and fanfic writing so I'm experimenting with a few different writing styles/conventions, level of detail and overall subject in the fics. So if you want to let me know if you found this smut enjoyable/easy to read, that would be much appreciated thanks. Also I am currently writing part 2 and was going to wait till I was further into writing with that but I just couldn’t wait to post this. I love it too much. I just wanna add that I am so grateful for the love and interaction I've received on my writing. I honestly never would have thought that so many of you would read my work let alone enjoy it, so for that I thank you and hope I can continue to deliver pieces of writing y'all enjoy. 

Corruption of Innocence. Part 2.

***********

He was obsessed with you, like no man has been or ever will. Not that it was hard or anything, you were a very good looking girl that had turned a few heads in her time, but no one had seemed to appreciate you like he did. Matt had his fair share of relationship, hookups, onenight stands and such but none of them had fulfilled anything more that his animalistic want to fuck. 

You were a different breed, rare, one of a kind, everytime he touched you he felt chills that rain throughout his entire body, setting his soul on fire and freezing it simultaneously. It was like touching an angel, you were healing his soul.

“Ah Matt, are you okay, did you need something?” you asked, a little confused at the man who had been standing in front of you for a while now.

He had been daydreaming in front of you, he had thought of you many times in many different scenarios but he never had been lost in his thoughts of you in the same room, let alone right in front of you.

“Oh.. ah yeah that’s right I wanted to see if you could reschedule the appointment I had with the Lopez family for Thursday instead of Friday." Matt choked out.

“Sure. anything else, boss?” you asked innocently.

A million thoughts raced across his mind. You slowly but enthusiastically sucking his dick, taking all of his length that you could before you choked, pulling it back out and teasing the tip of your tongue, precum dripping into your mouth, with a single drop escaping from the corner of your mouth. You were not looking away as his head dropped back between his shoulders, a loud grunt coming from his throat as he exhaled. Every wet swipe of your tongue sent shivers down his spine. That little scenario was one of many that often flashed brightly across his mind like an advertisement.

Matt quickly cleared his throat and as subtly as he could dropped the case file he was holding a little lower in attempts to hide his growing excitement. “No, that will be all…. Thank you.”

He quickly walked away to try and dissect that awkward encounter alone in his office and if he could stop thinking about you, do some work too. Which was very unlikely. He closed the door to his office and sat down behind the desk in a huff. He put his face in his hands and deeply exhaled. He was very confused about many things all surrounding you. You were like his kryptonite and anti-venom all at once.

Ever since you entered his life 6 months ago, becoming his new assistant and eventually even entering his friend group, he had been fascinated by you (especially because you were so hard to read unlike everyone else in his life) which quickly led to obsession.

He had always been a charmer and good with girls even in university (though his skills have much increased since then). But it had always been easy for him to bed any girl he wanted and that wanted him. And knowing the slut he is, it was many, very frequently. But around you he often became awkward and struggled to get the right words out, if any at all.

He was both frustrated and loved that you made him this way, very different to the experience he had with other girls. You were so perfect in every way, kind, caring, funny, sassy when you wanted to be, intelligent, had many talents and hobbies, confident and more. Yet he had many conflicting thoughts about you.

He wanted to spend hours sensually kissing every inch of your body, to study it so he could know it like the back of his hand, yet he also wanted to make you scream out his name as he claimed your pussy was his and nobody else's. His daydreams of you were often filled with starting a family with you and meeting your family and adopting pets together then quickly turned into how fucking pretty you would look as you pathetically whimpered his name, too drunk on his cock to form any other words than that. 

He was torn about having dirty thoughts about you, especially having no idea if the feelings were reciprocated. On one hand he felt almost gross thinking such dirty thoughts about a girl who came across as quite innocent especially compared to his previous romances but on the other side of him, maybe even the devil in him got even more worked up thinking about taking your innocence and being the only one allowed to praise and use your body. Corrupting you for his own entertainment.

***********

You were a class A simp. Since early teen years, you had a problem with getting crushes and becoming obsessed with them. It started off like any crush of course giggling and blushing at everything they say about you, but soon it became more, too much in fact. You would put them on such a high pedestal you would disregard and not even acknowledge any questionable or bad traits they had, even if your friends tried to warn you about it. You would simply brush it off saying it was nothing. They would appear in your dreams frequently, you would often find yourself talking to yourself and daydreaming about what it would be like to be with them and spend the rest of your lives together. 

All this infatuation led to severe disappointment, after a long while; sometimes up to years and years, the hazy cloud of perfection that you viewed them through would slowly disappear for one reason or another and you would crumble. You were a very sensitive and emotional person so it felt like your heart was literally breaking every time this happened. All over some of the shittest guys that would barely even look your way. 

You had gotten alot better since then. It had taken a long time to get over and past this self spiralling routine you had; lots of counselling and long talks with friends and just a lot more focusing on yourself. In fact for the last 3 years you had managed to stay away from developing severely unhealthy crushes, just keeping it nice and casual with the few guys that you had briefly dated, reminding yourself to look out for red flags and not to put them on some sort of perfection pedestal in your mind. You were quite proud of yourself and it was going good till you met Matt Murdock.

Looking back at all the guys you had previously become attached to, they were all pretty shitty. Either they were misogynistic or racist or made snide and creepy jokes or all three. Matt was nothing like that. You made sure you kept notes of anything out of pocket he would say and how he would act around others and had found no red flags. 

Yes, he was a bit of a flirt with other women (which you would deny to yourself but made you a little jealous) but he would alway keep it respectful and know that the girl felt comfortable around him. Still you tried your best to not think or acknowledge him more than you have to at work and social gatherings, still determined to withhold the new values you kept for yourself involving men. But it sure was damn hard. He was pretty fucken perfect.

Over the last month, as much as you hated yourself for it, you found yourself again slipping into your old, bad habits. You tried everything to stop it, distracting yourself with cleaning and cooking and hanging out with friends and everything else you could think of. None of which did much at all. The one thing that did seem to help stop or slow your growing infatuation for Matt was one thing. 

You were inexperienced, and I'm talking very inexperienced. The furthest you had gotten was a very awkward teeth banging into each other's makeout session that resulted in chipping the guy's tooth. You always tried your best to forget that memory. Even though you had been on a few dates with a few different guys it never got very far because of your fear of intimacy. I mean don't get me wrong you would love to be fucked the shit out of and then cuddle after and do allsorts of dirty stuff in the bedroom. Lord knows you thought about it often but you never had the balls to actually do any of that stuff. 

Whenever there was an opportunity, you panicked and kept overthinking about everything. Does your breath smell bad, what if you accidentally bite him too hard, what if he is actually a mad scientist and he's going to steal your DNA and make a clone out of you?! All this stuff was actually just anxiety. The real reason you had never gotten very far is because you were scared, so scared of being so vulnerable with someone, letting them into your most secret thoughts and letting them see you whole, imperfections and all. You were so caught up in your insecurity, that you never let anyone truly in, afraid of not being good enough causing them to leave you. So when Matt had asked you if you wanted to hang out at his place tonight, one on one, since Karen, Foggy and Marci were all busy, you got really nervous and spit out an awkward “..Yes!... sure I'd love to.”

**********

“Great, I'll see you at 8 tonight.” Matt said calmly. But he wasn't calm at all. In fact he too was quite nervous as being with you in the office or in a group setting it was hard to keep his hands off you. Your scent drove him wild, oftentimes throughout the day at work he would have to sneak off to the bathroom and relieve himself, driven mad by your pheromones filling his nostrils, making his cock throb in pain. Imagining it was your soft hand or wet mouth relieving him instead.

He honestly didn't know what came over himself asking you to come over to his place by yourself so the two of you could hang. He had no clue how he was going to keep his dick under wraps having your strong scent be right under his nose at all times. He certainly wouldn't be able to sneak off to the bathroom during the night to ease the pain. The thoughts continually plagued his mind through the rest of the evening at work and throughout his walk home. He pushed the thoughts aside when he got home though, having instead to focus on tidying up his place a little and getting ready for you.

After giving his place a little clean up and ordering the takeout food in advance to come 30 mins after you arrive, he decided to have a shower to calm his nerves before you came. He turned on the water to the temperature he likes and stripped his clothes off, stepping in the shower he sighs deep, warm water relaxing his tension filled muscles. The hot spray easing his muscles, his mind begins to wander again. Without thinking one of his hands brush against thick thighs as he pictures how the awkward conversation earlier could have gone. 

“Sure,anything else boss?” you ask innocently.

Matt's friendly smile turns into a devilish grin. “ I might have one thing in mind that you could help me with, honey.”

You gulp nervously but intrigued. “And what would that be Mr. Murdock?”

Matt chuckles deeply and leans into the desk, very close to your face. “ Make my cock as wet as your pussy is getting right now!”

Matt slowly starts to stroke his firming dick, deep breathes concealed by the noise of the shower raining down on his broad back.

Your voice hitches in your throat as your cheeks redden a dark crimson, you nod and say “yes” in a small voice. You stand up from your desk and walk around to Matthew staring at you with a dark look in his covered eyes. You slowly get on your knees in front of him and begin to unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper. You warily look around for Foggy nearby in the office or anyone else visiting. Matt lifts up your chin softly and wipes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Don't worry about anyone catching us sweetheart, I'm sure you'll make me cum before anyone finds us.” he smirks, giving you a tender rub on your cheek with his thumb before removing it.

Your cheeks continue to blush and you smile a little.You fasten your pace undoing Matt’s belt and pull down his dress pants. He reaches down and pulls his hard cock loose from his black boxers. You gasp a little intimidated by the sheer size of the veiny monster before you. Without thinking you grab the shaft firmly and put your lips around the head.  Matt quietly groans as his head falls back between his shoulders. You start to bob your head on his tip while stroking the rest of his length with your hand, slick from your saliva dripping down it. 

Breathing deeper and louder, Matt begins to stroke faster and harder on his throbbing cock in the shower. The steam and his sweat make his toned muscles glisten in the low light in the bathroom. Soft moans escape his lips as he strokes wishing like hell that it was your soft hands and mouth, pleasing him instead of his rough calloused hands.

You pussy throbs softly, your panties completely soaking.The smell and sound of your arousal make him growl deeply. Your hunger grows and grows the longer you suck his dick. Each time you bob your head down his shaft you try and take a little more of his length down your throat, desperately fighting back the urge to gag as tears begin to prick your eyes. You fasten your pace stroking him as his moans become louder, sensing he is close. Your teeth lightly graze him for a few seconds causing him to cum.

“Fuck!” Matt groans as he caresses his throbbing cock to the end of his high. 

You slurp up everything leaving no trace making Matt moan deeply. He reaches down to wipe away some droplets that have fallen out the corner of your mouth. Smirking he puts his flaccid cock back into his boxers and does up his pants zipper and belt.

“Fuck that was good, sweetheart!”

Foggy suddenly walks in on the two of you, not having a single clue about the activities that had just occurred seconds ago.

“What are you two doing ?” he asked. You both swiftly look back at Foggy.

“Oh… um… I was just helping Matt tie his shoe.”

Foggy raises his eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Yeah she was helping me cause I pulled my back last night… exercising.” Matt says cooly.

“Right! Exercising… yup, that makes sense!” Foggy replies back to Matt thinking he understood what Matt was covering for. “ Well I'm heading out to Josie’s to meet Karen and Marci who are already there, so I'll see you later?”

“Yup,we’ll be there Foggy!” you say peering from beside Matt's legs. Foggy grins and walks out. Matt waits till Foggy has left the office completely before telling you the coast is clear.

“Okay he is gone!”

“Whew, that was a bit close.” you say as you slowly stand on your sore knees.

“Yeah too close.”  he says while offering a hand up. You, looking at the ground, don't see it and accidently hit your head on it while standing up.

“ Oh shit! Are you okay?” Matt asks you, suddenly very seriously.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” you wince a little before laughing. Matt starts to laugh too.

He leans his forehead against the cool shower tile and deeply exhales. Letting the water wash away any remaining residue of his expulsion. God, not only did he want your body so bad but he also just wanted to be the one who you laugh with, the one who makes corny jokes that you try not to giggle at, the one who makes you smile lovingly at him when he says how pretty you look. Before he can get anymore lost in his thoughts, a knock at the door breaks him from his fantasies. 

“Shit.'' Matt mumbles under his breath even though you won't hear him (he forgets others don't have super hearing like him sometimes) and quickly scrambles to turn the water off and put a towel around his waist. He walks quickly down his hall and opens the door to your confused face, with your heart rate quickening.

“Uh sorry to greet you like this I…. lost track of time in the shower….. Uh but come in, come in. I'll just quickly change. But uh make yourself at home.”

You gulp, trying to not let your eyes wander too much at the sight of Matthew only in a small white towel hanging loosely on hips. His toned abs glisten in the light, still wet from his shower. His v-line looks deliciously good with a happy trail that leads down to the tiniest bit of dark hair you can see before the towel covers the view.

“Yeah, okay sure.” you say awkwardly as Matt steps aside letting you in and closes the door. He has a wide smirk on his face as walks slowly to his bedroom to change, noticing how your heart rate has spiked since you saw him, more than half naked.

You go to sit down on his cold leather couch and nervously begin to fiddle with your fingers, knees drawn tightly together, chewing the inside of your mouth as you do. What am I doing here? You think to yourself. It wouldn't be so bad if I just got up now and left, it wouldn't be that awkward avoiding Matt for the rest of my life right? I mean I'd probably have to quit my job if he didn't fire me out of pure hatred first though. 

Before you can spiral anymore, Matt walks in wearing a tight black t-shirt and light grey track pants and of course a small grin on his face. He goes to sit down beside you, so close he can easily feel your heat radiating off your body onto his. 

“So.. I ordered some Thai food earlier that should arrive in 25 minutes or so if that's cool, I would cook but…”

“Yeah, Thai food sounds good and yeah Karen told me that you're not a very skilled chef mainly due to the lack of ingredients you have on hand and that you don't really like grocery stores either. No offence of course.” 

“No offence taken… You’ve been talking with Karen about me?” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards and one eyebrow raising.

You shuffle in your seat and feel your cheeks warm. Looking down at the ground awkwardly you respond.

“Uh.. Yeah, well I mean no…..well, not all the time of course….. I just, um there’s a few questions that I had about you that came up in conversation…naturally of course.”

He leans in near your ear and whispers. “Well, if there are any more questions that you have. I'm right here to answer them for you.” 

Your face grows redder, you draw in a sharp breath, your thighs unconsciously push together tighter as the heat starts to grow deep in your stomach, catching you off guard with his sultry tone. He notices your heart rate quickening, and the ever growing prominent taste of your arousal in the air. He breathes it in deeply, humming darkly as the sweet aroma fills his nostrils, subtly palming his growing excitement a little through his pants for some relief. He smirks, gathering all the more evidence to support his suspicion that you want him like he wants you.

“Well, I have one question.” you ask shyly.

“And what would that be, honey?”

Your breath hitches in your throat for a second, so you swallow and press on. “I have noticed sometimes that…. that you seem to be more sensitive, like a lot more sensitive to certain things then the rest of us. You pause for a second looking up at his face trying to read his expression before continuing on. “ For example when that squeaky client comes in for an appointment to talk about divorcing her husband, you always look miserable like you're getting a migraine just being near her and her annoying high-pitched voice.”

“Huh, sure seems like you’ve been watching me closely sweetheart.” he responds, teasing you.

Your heart seems to be beating out of your chest as he talks very close to your ear in a slightly deeper voice than his usual, each nickname he refers to you by only makes your pussy wetter. You're afraid that soon a tear will dribble down your leg if he keeps his flirtatious act up.

“Ah, forget I said anything.” you respond, quickly trying to dismiss the topic.

“No, keep going, it’s fine, seems like you care about me.”

“Well yeah, of course I care about you, you're my boss…. and my friend and I just wanted to know if there is anything that I can do… to make it easier for you in those situations I mean.”

Matt eyebrows raise, a little taken aback. Touched at how thoughtful and caring you are, his smile beaming brightly, knowing that you think about him more than just between your thighs, although he's pretty happy about that too. 

“Wow, that’s very kind of you to offer, but you don’t have to worry about me, I've gotten used to dealing with it.” He pauses. “ but… I mean if I suddenly can't deal with it and need some help…I'll let you know.”

You smile sweetly back at him. “Great.” 

 A moment passes between you comfortable in each other's presence before it changes back to sexual tension. You both lean in close, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. Your heart feels as though it will flutter right out of your chest. You bite your lip as Matt subtly licks his bottom lip and grins. His senses overwhelmed happily by your rapidly racing heart, the heat radiating off you and the strong scent of your arousal filling the air. Your eyes flutter close as you lean in further, lips softly brushing against one another. A knock at the door makes you pull back surprised and Matt leans his head down and sighs.

“Well, that’ll be the Thai food.” he tells you, a little annoyed.

You sit awkwardly on Matt’s couch in silence while he pays for the food and brings it to his coffee table. You both sit in silence a good 5 minutes into your meal before you speak, neither party knowing how to seamlessly carry on from the conversation you had before or the almost kiss. You work up the nerve to speak and clear your throat.

“How did you become blind Matt?” you ask him blatantly, catching him off guard. “You don’t have to tell me if you don't want to or you're not comfortable or anything…but I never asked you because I assumed it might be rude but if it's alright I'm curious to know about it.”

“No, it's fine, I can tell you.” Matt takes a deep breath before starting his story. As he speaks, you feel yourself hanging onto every word he says, your eyebrows creased together, listening to him speak about his sorrowful story.

As he finishes talking, you can’t help but stare at him in awe at how much he has been through, yet he still keeps a smile on his face everyday and manages to be such a joyful light in everyone's path he crosses. You feel yourself falling for this man more and more as he opens up to you and shows you a side that you have never seen. You then think “fuck” how am I going to get over this man when he lets me inevitably lets you down, thinking back to your previous obsessive one-sided relationships. God dammit, you were in love with this man.

Matt looks down at his feet feeling a little melancholic after talking about such a sensitive topic for him.

“Thank you… thanks for being so open with me… I know how hard it can be to fully open up and be vulnerable like that.”

Matt smiles, nodding. “Thank you for listening.”

Another silent pause ensues between you, yet this time it's comfortable. Like two longtime friends who have grown to enjoy sitting comfortably in each other's presence without the need for words.

Matt suddenly chuckles to himself. You look at him confused but smiling, fork halfway to your mouth before you stop. “What?”

“Nothing.” Matt says, still smiling to himself.

“No it's not, what is it? Tell me!” you say getting a little impatient, still with a grin.

“Oh it's just some old, dumb question that I used to ask the guys at uni, whenever there was a lull in conversation to lighten the mood.”

“Okay, well ask me then.”

Matt stares at you for a second, grinning before asking you.

“Okay fine. When was the last time you….you know, (you raise your eyebrow intrigued) masterbated?”

“Oh?” you respond blushing, not expecting him to ask you that.

“You don't have to answer that if you don't want to… I shouldn't have said anything, like I said it was a dumb thing I did in college an-” Matt rushes to say.

You giggle, smiling. “No it's fine, I'll answer… I just didn't expect that was what you were going to say.”

Matt smiles shyly. 

“Uh it was like 2 days ago I think.” 

“Oh, cool….cool.” Matt gulping, can't help but let his mind run to thinking about you masturbating to the thought of him. Using your fingers feverishly to try to stimulate the longing you had for him to be between your thighs instead. Crying out his name over and over wishing it was him filling your hole instead of your fingers. Matt is brought back into consciousness when you speak.

“So what about you, when did you last beat your meat?”

Matt chuckles again, at your interesting way of saying masturbate before thinking back to the activity he had just finished doing in the shower before you arrived.

“Uh, earlier today.”

“Okay… but when is ‘earlier’.”

Matt exhales, hoping his answer will make you wet at the thought of. “Before you got here, in the shower.” Matt leans in closer to you, his lips ghosting your ear, his smile turning into a sinful grin. “Actually, right before you got here, sweetheart.” he says darkly.

Your body acts on its own. Goosebumps run throughout your body, your heat pooling once again between your thighs as a quiet but clear moan escapes your lips. Not holding back at all Matt carries on.

“Does that turn you on,sweetheart?” Matt purrs, putting your takeout containers on his coffee table. You bite your lip trying to suppress another whimper leaving your mouth. “Does it make you wet just thinking about how I fucked into my hand moments before you arrived…thinking about you?” he growls. You look at him.

“Matt..” you ask breathlessly. For once your over-thinking brain can’t pull you from the present, too hypnotised by the low seductive words leaving Matt smirking mouth, each word making your panties more and more drenched.

“What sweetheart? Wanna know what I was thinking about when I came?” 

You whimper, nodding. Matt puts his hand on the top of your thigh lightly, slowly rubbing it back and forth. He takes a deep breath of your addicting arousal. He swallows hard, eyes shutting for a second. His cock throbs, straining against his boxers. 

“I was thinking about your pretty little mouth, tightly wrapped around my dick in the office. So hungry to take every inch you could, so enthusiastically licking up every drop of mine.” 

Matt, noticing how flustered you were getting, puts his hand on your inner thighs and rubs it closer to your warming middle. 

“I think of you often while I fuck into my hand. Think about fucking you so hard that you’re pathetically falling apart on my cock, failing to say any words other than my name.”

You're so horny, you're struggling to keep from touching yourself right now or even better using Matt’s hand to fuck you instead. You look down and see how tightly wound up Matt is too, which causes your pussy to painfully throb, needing him to fill you up badly. 

Panting, you lean in closer to Matt, letting your lips brush against one another before making contact. The kiss at first soft and sweet quickly deepens into something hungrier, lustful. Matt wraps his hands around your jaw, tightly securing your face to his. His tongue suddenly shoots out of his mouth and makes its way in yours. You can’t help but moan loudly in his mouth, his hands start roaming your body. He goes to put his hand on your panties but you suddenly pull away.

“Ooh did I go too fast? Did I do something to make you feel uncomfortable? Matt rushes to say, looking concerned.

“Oh no, no… it’s not you at all, it's just…i’ve never really done this before.” you sigh and quietly whisper “I…I..I’m a virgin.”

Matt smiles a little trying to ignore the twitch that your words made his cock feel.

“That's all sweetheart?” 

“Your not repulsed by that, the fact that I don’t know what I'm doing, that I don’t know how to please a man-”

“Not at all…if im being honest sweetheart.” he leans in and whispers, making you shiver. “It makes me want you more.”

You bite your lip surprised by his reaction, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth. He looks at you, eyes full of lust.

“Do you want me to continue?” he says, gesturing down to your thighs.

You nod and he pauses waiting for a verbal response.

“Yes. Yes Matt, I want you to touch me.”

******

[rogueddie]

Soulmates Steddie Recs

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🧵

And Death Stands So Small In The Face Of Love

writersagainstwritersblock

Soulmate AU where soulmarks don't turn until the person actually loves you, rather than upon meeting. Unturned marks are just ink until the person who loves you touches them and turns them into bright, colorful tattoos. Or a character study on Steve, the people he loves, and the people who love him.

Words : 14,514 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Find the words and talk to me

daytimedreamer

In a world where a tattoo-like mark appears on your left wrist when your soulmate is relatively close to you, Eddie Munson doesn't have one.

But he's fine with it. Completely fine. Who needs a soulmate... Right?

He has his whole life figured out already and the lack of a soulmate hasn't affected his plans at all.

That is until a mark does appear and Eddie discovers he can't run from fate.

Words : 72,470 Chapters : 11/11 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

color me in danger

SolariaLunar21

The first time Eddie remembers a major change in the color of his meter he’s 11 years old. For most of his life the bar on his wrist has sat firmly in the green sometimes on very rare occasions darkening to a green blue color. That is until that day when he’s 11 and he watches it change to yellow for the first time.

Words : 4,755 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

Your skin and bones turn into something beautiful (You know I love you so)

ChristinMKay

Steve Harrington is born with a scream on his lips and so much love in his being that his body is covered in it. An abundance of moles, freckles, and birthmarks are speckled across his skin, painting him in constellations and stardust and affection.

The nurses and doctors are congratulating Steve’s parents as they place him in the arms of his mother. They say he is blessed. Lived so many lives filled with people who loved him so much that the press of their lips against his skin had to echo through time and leave a mark.

Words : 4,209 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

so we must meet apart

leah_btw

He sometimes imagines how it would feel to be in Munson's orbit. Sometimes imagines where his words would be. Hopes they'd curl along Munson's cheek bone where Steve could brush his thumb so easily. Or in the junction between his neck and shoulder, a place where Steve could drop kisses. Or along the curve of his hip, where Steve's palm could settle.

None of it matters because Steve never says anything.

Words : 15,437 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Heart on Your Sleeve

Anonymous

Steve Harrington doesn’t know how to love right. He knows he loves his parents, but their soul marks have turned to scars on his skin. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong. With some help, he figures out it's not his fault.

Inspired by a kink meme prompt where your soul mark appears when you realise you love someone.

Words : 22,816 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

Error Option Romance

thankyouplease

Eddie imagines that Steve Harrington probably thinks that he is real hot shit. On top of being a rich prom king, he is also an eroptomancer. A love seer. A soulseer, some people call them – someone able to see the weird magic that connects people in a predestined shit storm of a craps game. He probably thinks he’s real goddamn special. One in a million special.

It’s actually closer to one in five million, but who’s counting?

Words : 61,348 Chapters : 6/6 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Platonic with a capital "P"

fucktacles

Robin Buckley was betrayed by the universe twice in her short teenage life. Once when she was born a lesbian in a homophobic little town. Again, when it shoved Steve Harrington into her life. Worst of all, he was starting to grow on her. She might even be, gods forbid, fond of him.

Words : 8,429 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

as you bleed your deepest feelings here

hitlikehammers

“My first fucking tattoo, hell,” Eddie sniffles and sneers and neither sentiment really lands, it’s more just…devastating. “Thought about covering it up, soon as anyone would let me into a parlor. Tried to stick-and-poke it, so I couldn’t tell what it was anymore but I couldn’t even get past a single little dot, like a full inch away,” he presses Steve’s hand closer, the skin so smooth and so fucking warm; “made my,” Eddie’s voice cracks then, and sounds almost like it bleeds around the last wet whimpers that fall forth:

“Made my heart hurt.”

Fuck, but it makes Steve’s heart hurt, too.

“But it was a whole new hurt when there was you, you understand?” Steve freezes, scared for half a second until Eddie reaches for his chin and lifts his gaze, stares utter devotion and maybe a little disbelief straight into Steve’s veins just with a look that full, then Eddie licks his lips and there’s a hint of a smile that dares to breach the cloud cover.

“You made my heart kinda,” and oh, yeah, a smile: “sing.”

Words : 3,096 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

[justabigassnerd]

Merry Christmas

Pairing - Jack Reacher x child!reader

Word count - 1,075

Warnings - none just Christmas fluff

Summary - it's your first Christmas with Jack and he decides to do just a little something to make the day special

A/N - okay so you know how I said I wasn't going to make a full fic...? so that turned out to be a fucking lie. I mean this isn't a massively long fic or anything I just saw the ask and couldn't stop writing so here we are y'know? everyone needs a bit of Little Reacher for the soul. as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!! (also happy holidays to you all!)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

25th December might as well have been an ordinary day to Jack Reacher. He hadn't celebrated Christmas in years. It had not been top of his priority list for a very long time.

Except now he had a kid.

Growing up, you had clearly not learnt about the holiday as you had questioned Jack on why bright sparkly lights were hanging outside houses and decorations everywhere. Jack couldn't find it within his heart to deprive you of something like Christmas, even with as little as he engaged with it.

When it came to Christmas Eve, Jack had come to a final decision. He wasn't going to travel tomorrow, he'd instead dedicate the day to spending time with you and celebrating at least a little. And as he made the choice not to travel, he knew he had to get you at least a little something to celebrate the day.

"Okay, y/n, we're going to go out for a little walk so I need you to stick by me the whole time, got that?" Jack asks, tugging on his jacket as he unhooks your coat and holds it open, patiently waiting for you to ease yourself into the coat before you turn to face him, smiling up at him and nodding.

"Okay." You reply, taking Jack's outstretched hand and letting him lead you out of the motel room.

Jack silently hated himself for waiting until Christmas Eve to look for something to buy you, so many people were rushing around like headless chickens trying to buy their last-minute presents without any regard for the people around them. Jack ended up just scooping you up and sitting you on his hip to protect you from any flailing hands or bags. He even made sure to send a few glares in the direction of people who barged his shoulder. Eventually, after glancing in multiple shop windows, Jack's eyes fell onto something that would be the perfect Christmas gift for you.

It was a small stuffed dog, with brown and white patches decorating it. And the toy itself could be no bigger than the size of Jack's palm.

"I just want to have a look in this shop, kid. I promise we'll be quick." Jack says to you, entering the store and then placing you down on the floor once he deems it safe enough. It was quieter in this shop than it was out on the streets. Jack grabbed a basket, grateful it didn't have any way for you to catch a glimpse of the toy when he grabbed it. He slowly made his way towards where the toy was and just before he reached it he turned to face you.

"Hey, y/n, could you grab me that book from over there?" Jack asks, pointing out a book on a stand. a small smile tugs at his lips as you nod, immediately turning to go and grab the book. The second your back was turned Jack grabbed the small plush dog and put it in the basket, concealed from your line of sight. Just in time as you turned around with the book in hand, bringing it over to him.

"This book?" You question, holding the book out towards Jack as he takes it from your hands carefully, flipping it over and acting as if he were reading the blurb.

"I must've mistaken it for a different book. Let's put it back and then pay for something and then we can head back. I know it's getting a bit late." Jack says, guilt tugging at his heart as he sees you attempt to hide a yawn. Jack puts the book back where you got it and leads you to the checkout where he makes sure to distract you while the cashier scans the item and bags it up before he pays for it.

"What's in there?" You ask curiously as Jack takes the bag from the cashier, thanking them as he grabs your hand with his spare one before leading you out of the shop.

"That's for you to find out tomorrow." Jack says as he re-enters the busy street, immediately navigating through the seas of people.

By the time you both made it back to the motel, Jack could tell you were just about ready to crash. He got you out of your coat and shoes and into your pyjamas as quickly as possible before getting you into bed. You barely had time to mumble a goodnight to him before you fell asleep, but Jack didn't mind. Jack instead whispered a goodnight of his own to you before getting into his own bed and slowly falling asleep.

The next morning, Jack woke up to see you still sleeping. When he glanced over at the motel clock he saw it displaying six in the morning. He let out a small sigh as he sat up and stretched, figuring he should be grateful he doesn't have a kid who gets so excited about Christmas that they're up at four in the morning.

By the time Jack had made himself a coffee, you had begun to stir, eyes slowly blinking open as you rubbed at them.

"Morning, y/n." Jack says, his voice a little gruff from sleep.

"Good morning." You say brightly, pushing back your bed covers as Jack crosses to your bed, perching on the end of it after grabbing the bag from where he'd tucked it away under his bed.

"Since it's Christmas. I wanted to buy you a little something." Jack says as he holds the bag out towards you. He felt like he'd let you down by not giving you the big Christmas you deserved with family, gifts and a big dinner, but all those negative thoughts melted away when he saw your face light up at the sight of the small plush dog, immediately pulling it out of the bag and holding it to your chest.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" You say enthusiastically, hugging the toy as close as you can, pressing small kisses to the top of the dog's head.

"You're welcome, y/n. You deserved something." Jack says as you look up at him, placing the small toy by your side before clambering into Jack's lap, both of you smiling as he wraps his arms around you.

"Merry Christmas y/n." Jack mutters as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Merry Christmas, daddy."

[kairiscorner]

the confounding case of dr. o'hara. — miguel o'hara x gnreader

✧ summary: your first ever real patient out in the field as a criminal psychologist, and it's the recently caught supervillain, dr. miguel o'hara; a disgraced genius geneticist that supposedly went insane after a freak accident that not only worsened his hunger for rapture, but also turned him into a horrifying spider mutant. you had to be wary around him, anything you could tell him could make him try something risky... but what he wants with you now that he's gotten a whiff of you and your scent is something far more than just risky... he wants your life, but not to take it, but rather, for you to willingly submit yourself to him and only him. ✧ pairing: miguel o'hara x criminal psychologist!reader ✧ genre: (honestly idk, it's not fully fluff but not fully angst nor comfort either ... ? tis just a guilty pleasure fic ig !) ✧ author's note: this is inspired by the lovely kimmy's art on twt !! I'M SORRY, IDK MUCH ABOUT THE DETAILS ON DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE, I DIDN'T WANNA BUTCHER ANYTHING AND I HOPE I DIDN'T !! i mixed some traits between joker, gomez addams, and some elements of the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde ! ... i hope y'all like this :'DDD AND I'M SO SORRY FOR THE SHITTY SPANISH FGIRUFBUIRBIURTB google translate is all i got .......

i. the scent of honey and a vision of an angel.

pages and leaflets of the mountains of cases against this man successfully made you shiver at the sound of his name–you couldn't believe just how little remorse he had for every crime he had ever committed written down in these records, it was like being in the scenes of a true crime documentary; it didn't feel real that you were going to speak to the very man himself and see just why he committed all those crimes... and why he could only smile at the thought of wreaking so much havoc. you took in a deep breath and walked into the hall where his cell was in, taking cautious steps as you heard the leaking of pipes and the dripping of water accumulating into puddles the further down the hall you entered.

you had no idea why, as a rookie, your first patient would have to be a criminal mastermind—but you needed all the experience you could get, not many people in your field at your level of expertise get the chance to talk to high-profile criminals like him; and you were far more professional and knowledgeable at your job compared to your colleagues in the academy; surely this wouldn't be too bad... right? well, the minute you saw the light coming from his cell, you were greeted to the sight of a hunched over man, sitting quietly at the center of the room with his back turned to the glass in front of you. you gently tapped at the glass, but that didn't catch his attention. "i know you can hear me." you spoke as you tried to get him to turn around again, but he still didn't budge. you rolled your eyes and sat down on a chair across from his cell; preparing to ask him questions that he probably won't even answer.

you introduced yourself as a freshly graduated criminal psychologist from nueva york university, you hoped he would cooperate with you and give you reasons as to why he committed his crimes, explaining to him that he could get a much more lenient punishment if he could explain his side of the story as to why such a once well-respected man had spiraled into such a morbid life of crime. you heard a low chuckle rumble from the other side of the glass, and that low rumble became more audible, all the way until he was cackling loudly; the sounds reverberating throughout the rubber-padded white walls and rang throughout the glass. the cackling soon faltered out and ceased, you felt the hairs on your body stand up as you heard every octave of his maniacal laughter–you'd think that years of case studies and witnessing firsthand from your mentors that dealing with people like him wouldn't be too challenging or disturbing, but this experience proved you to be wrong, so terribly wrong.

as the laughter died down, the corner of the man's smile showed from behind his long, shaggy unkempt wispy hair; and when he turned around to face you, you saw that his eyes were a dark shade, they were bloodshot and crimson, they were deathly, and you knew he was far more dangerous than any other criminal could contend with. the man grimaced and slowly creeped his head around over his shoulder to get a good look at you. his body followed suit and gradually turned to face you, the brown restraints on his white, yet stained, straightjacket made him look both pitiful and dangerous all at once. suddenly, the man slowly got up and wobbled over to you–it was as though he had gone days, maybe weeks, without walking; could he have stayed in that position this whole time before you came to see him?

the man's gaze was bearing into your own, his eyes not leaving yours as his grimace widened; the corners of his smile reaching his ears as he chuckled every now and then in a delusional daze. his chin and cheeks were dotted with stubbles and hints of fuzz and a beard–he had gone days without shaving, either, it seemed. he pressed his forehead against the glass and stared down at you, and only then were you able to understand how big he was; about 200 centimeters and counting, and yet, he was able to be restrained... he was frightening, and he knew you thought that of him.

"...miel..." the sound escaped his lips, the first word he spoke in a long while. you looked up at him in fear and gulped, writing down what you heard. "...w-what?" you asked him, hoping he'd repeat the word. the man's grin widened creepily as he slowly opened his mouth to speak again, and a dribble of saliva dripped down his chin as he stared at you, hungrily, like a starved predator cornering its prey. "miel, mi cariño, it's... honey, sweet as... shocking honey, making me hungry..." he murmured out, hid constant breathing fogging up the glass. you moved your chair back a little and cleared your throat, making miguel press his face against the glass even further as you moved away from him. he thumped his forehead against the glass, making you jolt a little and look at him. he stared at you from underneath his eyelashes and smirked widely.

"don't... don't escape me, mi tesoro... c'mon, it's been... too damn long since i've had such a pretty little thing come here and look so shocking ravishing–" he gushed and mumbled as his breath quickened and his smile got even wider, but seeing as how uncomfortable and tense he made you, he, surprisingly, quit that and moved away a little from the glass. he hung his head in what appeared to be frustration, and mumbled in a hused tone, "ah, quiero arrancarte esa blusa... but i can tell..." he whispered as he sat down closely to the glass and leaned his head forward, looking at you with a sly grin. "you don't like men who are that straightforward, do you?" he asked you as he watched every little move and twitch your body made, sinking in all the details about you as he muttered to himself, twitching as well at your little responsive gestures that said more than words ever could help you articulate the feelings he was giving you right then and there.

he chuckled as he watched you restlessly fidget in your seat, darting your gaze away from him as much as you could. "you're so cute, mi amor... keep that up and i might just really break out of here, i finally have a reason to now that your pretty little face showed up." he said, gazing at you all... lovingly as he smiled the more you stuttered out the next thing you wanted to say. "...there is... literally nothing you'll get out of smooth talking me." you said defiantly as miguel chuckled aloud again, rocking himself back and forth in ecstasy. "you're not only cute, smart, and snarky, but a bad liar too... eso me excita, sabes?" he teased you as he stuck his tongue out, a couple of smuggled piercings on the tip of his tongue gleamed as he did so, making you a little more tense as before. he hummed to himself as he looked at you with an even more sultry, desperate look on his angled face. "you're like an angel... you'll be known as mi angel from now on, okay, mi ángel? keep visiting me more often, mi ángel, i need to be reminded miracles can happen... even to scum like me." he whispered as you looked away from him, making him whimper and beg for you to look at him in spanish and english.

"por favor no me hagas esperar… mírame, mi ángel..." he pleaded with you as he got on his knees and pouted, showing off his lower lip as he gave you such big, sad eyes that tried to convince you to look his way. though he tried to appear less menacing and pathetic, you knew this was just a front of his to get you to do something for him, maybe to get him out? to take his place for him? to... oh, you couldn't even jump to that conclusion, because there's no way that—

"i desperately need you, mi ángel... please, look my way, my little angel... come closer, i need to smell your... your honey-like scent again, it drives me crazy, crazy with love, mi ángel, you can't even imagine..." he begged of you, leaning his forehead against the glass again, sobbing audibly as you sighed. would you look him for a second time? would you kindly let him get a whiff of you again and crave for you? he would never hurt you if you did, of course not; angels aren't meant to be hurt, and you, his darling little angel, would never be hurt around him... he'll do everything to make sure you won't be, and no restraints will ever hold him back from getting his strong, toned arms around your beautiful body, around his little angel, once and for all.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce @oxrchd

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

well my left hand's free

JJ x F!Reader

Summary: JJ's been staying at your house for a bit, and you catch him doing something you definitely weren't supposed to see.

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Masturbation, Smut

AN: In case y'all didn't know, the title track of OBX is kinda an innuendo on masturbating, and that's definitely not what inspired this fic. Also, OBX3 comes out tomorrow and I'm excited! Ok, bye!

You slipped out of bed to grab a glass of water. It was just passed midnight and you were sure everyone was asleep. The floor was cold against your bare feet and you wrapped your jumper tighter around you. It got cold on the beach, even in the summer.

You heard shuffling from your brother's room. It took you a second to remember that you'd put JJ up in your brother's room for the night.

You were walking home from work when you overheard JJ talking about needing a bed for the night. You considered yourself a friend of JJ's - more an acquaintance, but you sat next to him in half of your classes and let him cheat off your tests. Plus, he bought you new pens when he stole so many of yours that you ended up not having any left, and he invited you to every kegger personally. Yeah, you guys were friends. Your house was also closer to John B's than JJ's, and since your brother hadn't come back from college on the mainland yet, it seemed perfect.

JJ had tried to argue with you about it, saying that he didn't want to be in the way, but you were far too stubborn for him to even try to reason with you. "Plus, my parents aren't going to be home. They're going to dinner. It's their anniversary."

You walked past his room and went to the kitchen. You grabbed two glasses of water, given that JJ was up, and you softly padded back over to your brother's room.

You were knocked on the door with your elbow, holding a glass in each hand. "Shit." You heard him whisper through the door and then a loud thump as he fell off the bed.

"You good in there? JJ?"

You went to push the door open, but he yelled out quickly, "Wait, wait, wait. Give me a second."

You waited for a second before the door flung open. You were met with a flushed - and very shirtless - JJ. You shamelessly checked him out as he moved out of the way to let you in.

"Like what you see?" He smirked.

"You didn't need to go to all the lengths of taking your shirt off. It's not anything I haven't seen before." JJ raised his eyebrow at you, "Gym class, JJ, get your mind out of the gutter."

"Sorry." He muttered as you elbowed his chest, "I - um - sleep naked." He said, scratching the back of his neck, "Didn't think you were still up."

You shrugged, "Thought you might want some water. Heard you shuffling around." You handed him a glass of water, before walking over to the window, "You can open the window, by the way. My brother said it gets really hot in here sometimes."

"What are you doing up?" JJ said, taking a sip of water.

"Just making sure you're not having sex in my brother's bed. He'd kill me if he found out." JJ choked on the water. You looked at him, mischief glinting in your eyes, "I'm kidding." JJ smiled unconvincingly.

You walked out of the room, and JJ shut the door quickly behind you. You smirked at how easy it was to fluster JJ.

JJ sighed heavily when you walked out of the room. Shit. He'd almost been caught. His head had flown out of the gutter when you knocked and he'd fallen off the bed trying not to get caught with his hand on his dick. Just thought of sleeping in your house, with you less than 15 feet away, had his cock standing at attention. He downed the glass of water and grabbed the towel that you gave him, headed to the bathroom for a cold shower. Maybe that would stop his racing thoughts.

He forgot that you had told him about the faulty lock and that he should knock to make sure no one was inside. You were inside having a shower when you heard the door open. You shrieked, and tried to cover yourself with the curtain, except the curtains you had were practically sheer.

JJ's eyes dragged over your body before his mind caught up with him. He spun on his heel quickly and slammed the door shut behind him, quickly retreating to his bedroom. He threw himself face down on his bed, and groaned, head in his hands, cock somehow harder than before.

You stormed into his room, towel wrapped tightly around yourself, "I told you to knock!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone would be showering right now!" He said, refusing to face you.

"Well, it doesn't matter, just forget it ever happened." He groaned, "It's fine, JJ, you didn't see much."

"Yeah well, maybe that's the problem." He muttered under his breath.

You looked at him, stunned, "What?"

"Shit." He sat up to face you, trying to apologise and explain himself, but as his eyes met yours, you dropped the towel. His eyes went wide, drinking in everything he can. You crawled over to him, his legs widening as you settled between them, straddling his cock.

You gently pressed your lips to his, hoping you haven't massively misjudged the situation. But JJ's hands moved to rest on your ass as he kissed you harder. You broke away for air and pressed light kisses down his neck.

"As much as I'd love to have sex with you. I'd prefer if we didn't do it on my brother's bed." He chuckled into your neck, picking you up with ease. Weeks of working in the junkyard lifting scrap metal had definitely done JJ some favours.

He attached his lips to yours as he walked over, kicking open the door with his foot and carefully dropping you onto the bed. He shut the door and ripped off his t-shirt before re-attaching his lips to yours. He bit your lip gently, eliciting a low whine from you.

"Just like that pretty girl, keep making those pretty sounds for me." His fingers ran over your slit, caressing the clit as you bucked up against him, "Didn't know you were this dirty, acting so innocent in class. Makes me wanna fuck your brains out every time you bite your stupid pencil." The thought of that makes you smile.

JJ thrusted a finger into you without warning. You shrieked, grabbing his hand as a hot pain burst through you. He looked at you in concern as he retracted it quickly. You held on to his hand, not letting him move further away, as he lifted you up and into his arms.

"What's wrong?" He searched your face for any secrets that you were hiding from him.

"Just...hurt. Never done that before." JJ looked shocked. You were mortified.

You tried to crawl away from him, covering your body with your hands and trying to find some clothes.

"I'm sorry, baby," The nickname sent a hot flame straight to your core, "I didn't know." He came up behind you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, pulling you back to rest on his chest. "I'll be more gentle."

"You still wanna have sex?"

"Of course, I do, baby." He turned you around, eyes gazing into yours, filled with adoration. He leans down to kiss you again, but this kiss was different. The other kisses were fervent, lust-filled, driven by purpose. This one was slow, understanding, driven by trust and love. He carried you back to bed, lips never leaving yours. He trailed kisses down your throat, in between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach. Each kiss made your back arch, the sensation completely unfamiliar to you.

"You ready?"

"Please, JJ. I swear to God, I need this so bad. Please, JJ, please, please... please." His head dove between your thighs, placing small kisses on your clit and slit. He let out a low groan at the sight of your glistening cunt, the hot air making you shiver. His tongue slipped between your folds, parting your pussy just for his view, pulling a loud moan out of you.

He delved further between your folds, tongue-fucking you as you writhed above him. He placed a hand on your stomach, keeping you in place as he continued his ministrations. JJ drank like a man starved, letting out moans every now and again. You couldn't believe it. There was no way JJ was truly enjoying what he was doing.

He sure acted like it though. His mouth attached to your clit, sucking harshly, as rutted into your bed. He moaned loudly before he pulled away. Arousal coated his face, and the sight alone made you want to combust. "You ready for more?" You could only nod.

He returned to your clit, tongue running over it, flicking it before sucking it again. He slid a finger into your now dripping pussy, and the intrusion felt much less painful now. His pace was slow, his finger pushing into you completely. He watched your face for any signs of discomfort, but all you could do was throw your head back and moan out loud in pleasure. The pad of his finger circled over the spongy patch at the top of your vagina. You bucked your hips up, eyes watering in pleasure.

"You like that?" He placed a gentle kiss on your clit, before he picked up the pace with his fingers. Your moans had become silent, mouth stuck in an 'O' shape. JJ rutted into your bed beneath you, speed picking up with his fingers.

"So close," you whispered, moans breaking through you. “JJ… feels so g-good JJ… oh shit… oh, JJ-” Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, a white-hot lightning strike bursting low in your stomach and shockwaves through your cunt. It made your ears ring, black spots covering your vision.

You felt JJ brushing the hair out of your face and kissing your forehead gently when you came around. His fingers were still pumping in you slowly as you rode out your high, "Just like that, baby girl, just like that. There you go, you did so well. So good for me, pretty baby." He pulled his fingers out of you, and you whined at the loss of fullness. It felt nice.

Your cum clung to his fingers, and brought the digits to his mouth to lick them all clean. You moaned lowly at the filth of his actions, pulling his lips to meet yours again.

He kissed you, but stopped you again, "I think that's enough for now. Got to let my favourite girl recover."

You blushed at the compliment, but looked at him confused, "What about you?"

"I kinda already took care of myself." He said, sheepishly. You looked down to see a wet patch on the front of his shorts.

You burst into laughter as JJ let out protests of, "Hey, it's not my fault you look so hot when you cum."

You clean yourself up with your towel as JJ changes your bedsheets, and then you find a pack of unused boxer shorts in your brother's drawer.

You throw the pack at JJ's head, and he creeps into the bathroom to clean himself up. You throw his boxers and his shorts into the washing machine, before heading back to your room. JJ comes in a few seconds later with a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink. Or you'll get dehydrated."

You smile and down the entire glass. JJ turns to leave, but you grab his hand. "Stay?"

"Tut tut tut. What will your parents say?"

"They don't have to know."

"Still I'd rather not get beat up by your dad." You pouted as he pressed a tender kiss on your lips, "I'll see you in the morning."

"In the morning."

[divinelolita]

i wanna laugh and i wanna laugh rn😪

its been so long(literally a few days) since i sent smthhh

ill boost u bae dw

AHEM

mk so the whole band(um seperate fic duh) with a bf who be freakishly nice n shit(i feel like ivd sent this bf dont expose me if i did) like if a band member accidentally hit him in the face he would say sorry and say some dumb shit like "im so sorry i shouldn't have been in the way of your elbow. " like what💀💀

or if someone was trying to confess or smth he'd be like "i really don't want to hurt you but no." maybe even as a band memeber is right next to them

and arguments with this mf is probably hell like if it was a band members fault he would accidentally make them think it wasn't and it was his(sometimes its on purpose but they figure it out later) OFC these r examples use what u want🧍🏾

BAHSBDKDBDO I CANFT STOP LAUGHING ON THE FIRST ONE

THE BAND X EXTREMELY NICE READER

teehee i have an essay to write but ummmmm that doesn't matter rn 😇 uhh also if it's bad sorry idk what's going on with me

BILL:

・He's so confused how you can be nice all the time

・He really does try to be nice but he just snaps sometimes omg 💀

・He wonders when your breaking point is

・Like if he turns around carrying something and wacks your fucking face he's so confused why you're not YELLING at him

"Yeah and then- *WHACK* -OH SHIT M/N I'M SO SORRY ARE YOU OKAY?! -"

"No, no Bill I'm fine! It didn't hurt that much."

"..what."

・He just stares at you with his jaw dropped low, slowly nodding to himself

・Or like if he knocks something over and you apologize for it

(I've done that so many times...)

・Reassures you it's not your problem 🤞

TOM:

・nahh you got him FUCKED UP bae.

・He doesn't understand how you can be so nice, I feel like he's a brutally honest mf 💀

・If your in public and somebody is being rude to you and you're just kinda standing there, still staying calm???

・He's just looking at your features trying to find ONE small piece of anger or frustration

・I feel like y'all are couple opposites.

・Like he'd obviously have a soft spot for you 🤗 but he doesn't see the reason to be nice to others when he knows it's not his fault

・Arguments with him oh my god...

・If you keep apologizing and saying it's your fault he eventually sits next to you to comfort you, assuring you everything's okay.

"It's not your fault, M/N. I promise.."

・You'd somehow warm him up a bit, he barley notices himself becoming more kind and carefree.

GEORG:

・was his color green or blue omg i can't remember

・He's...so confused.

・Like if he accidentally smacks you with his elbow and you aren't crying or cursing

"M/N? M/N ARE YOU-"

"I'm okay! It just stung for a second haha..!"

"..."

"..."

・He gets you but he doesn't.

・He just can't see himself being so giddy and happy and nice.

・Anger turns into confusion in arguments, why are you so mad at yourself?

・Loves you so fucking much though, always reminding you that you are amazing and didn't do anything wrong.

GUSTAV

・AHHHH HE GETS YOU!!!!!

・He understands you so much oh my god, he just loves you even more now.

・He'd also try to keep you from blaming yourself.

・Like if he knocks something over and you apologize.

"Oh shit I'm sorry I should have moved it-"

"No honey you're fine, I should've looked where I was going.."

・MWA MWA HE LOVES YOU

・Very slightly confused on how you never snap, how you always keep calm

・He wishes he could be like you bae 💔💔

・In arguments he just tries to calm himself and you down, actually sitting down and talking about how you both feel

OH SHITTT I NEED TO DO THAT ESSAY

[highonincense]

One thing I absolutely despise in drarry fics —and by this I mean a specific subset, not like in general cause there are many amazing fics— is the characterization of harry (and draco), the way he's an absolute fucking doormat!!!! I get it y'all are tryna portray him as a social dimwit, it can be done in a normal way without making him seem like a piece of cardboard! Are we talking about the same dude here?? You don't actually have to completely demolish a character, take away their key traits just to make the other half of the ship look better.

Let me give a pointwise description:

1. Dude stutters after every bloody sentence, like he's so overwhelmed talking to draco "smirking, smooth as butter, sardonic, sleek, godly" Malfoy who keeps insulting him every fucking second. Do you really think that harry would entertain that bullshit, especially in post-war fics!!! Like he'd just take it and not put him in his place?

2. I read this fic long ago and I don't remember the name, but good god it was unbearable. Basically the golden trio apologizes to draco for his tragic life that they were responsible for after the war? Like wtf? Why is there even a need to do that? 😭 That was too much and I stopped midway

3. Again, draco "3 OWLs" Malfoy, some supersmart / second coming of tom riddle, keeps patronizing every action of harry, the amount of times harry's intelligence is insulted? Immediate no from me, like are we still doing the whole "harry dumb mf potter is unobservant, slow, stupid, can't function without some rat hissing in his ear that he's an idiot 24/7"? Don't you think it's lame?

4. Harry has to always put up with his shitty attitude, I am all for character development, I know characters are multi dimensional and complex, and showing draco having a difficult personality is well and good, but it starts to get annoying when there's no real growth in him. I've read fics where he's absolutely despicable until the end which is covered up as him being a dickhead in general and harry "fondly" keeps up with his shit. *gag* canon harry would NEVER

5. I think it genuinely wouldn't make a difference if harry was there or not, I am not kidding or being dramatic, those fics might as well be character × y/n fics

All of this leads me to hate draco's character more! You portray him as this insufferable bastard who has a heart of gold apparently (where?) who has no real growth, shows no humility or regret or even pretends to and you think harry will put up with that?

It would be interesting if he starts out that way, works on himself and grows and changes, that would be more tolerable and interesting!

But no, he's always this annoying guy who hurls insults, keeps mocking harry or his friends every other line, you might argue it's in his character, but aren't those the traits which make him unlikeable? like those aren't cute or quirky? wouldn't it make more sense to show him grow out of it? It's really annoying

And harry, let's not go there, he's a completely new character, might as well be an oc atp, you can't even compare him to canon harry, that's how bad it is! I still haven't completely discussed it cause it's already getting long, but he's this wet bloody blanket and I can't stand it, the gryffs (except Hermione) in general are shown as some bumbling buffoons who can't differentiate between their hand and foot!! And the slytherins are all savvy, masterminds, geniuses... I really don't know whether it's admirable cause it's weird seeing them pushed into these moulds where they can only behave a certain way!

I'm so tired this is still going on like?? Why are their characters such caricatures? All of this sounds like it may have been a thing of past, but I am appalled it's still happening!!!

This is not directed at all drarry fics out there, cause there are some gorgeous fics written by amazing authors who fucking get these characters and make it about them, about their relationship and explore it in a depth and nail their characterizations without making either one of them boring. There are a good number of fics that I actually enjoy cause of the way they write drarry's characters, which makes or breaks the fic imho

[hoeforhao]

babbyyyyy HONEYYY when are we getting flip sip strip?

it's here finally lord😭every month I used to get a ask regarding when will flip,sip or strip come out and I felt so guilty for pushing down such a good plot to the basements but yeah!!! FINALLY!

Flip, Sip or Strip🎲 // Wonhui Fic // Part 1

ᥫ᭡ pairing: sub!wonwoo×fem!reader×dom!junhui

ᥫ᭡ genre: smut with barely any plot,minors dni, threesome,college au, bestfriends to bedfriends, sexual games

ᥫ᭡tags: rough sex, double penetration,oral(both m and f receiving),pussy slapping,breast play, use of pet names,degradation kink,orgasm denial, use of explicit language.

ᥫ᭡synopsis: what happens when you are ganged up by your bestfriends to play a game of pleasures.

ᥫ᭡part: 1/2

ᥫ᭡word count: 1.4k+

ᥫ᭡banner credits: @classicscreations

ᥫ᭡authors note: ik ik this was supposed to be a oneshot and I started writing today with that aim only but got disturbed so many times that I lost the flow, and in no way I wanted this fic to come out rushed and without the tension building up, so I'll release the rest with another part. But this part can also be read as a stand alone. Hope y'all will enjoy!!!

Permanent taglist: @joonsytip @feat-sun , also tagging @junhour cuz ik you'll enjoy this ☻️

Fic taglist: @tommolex @tara-drabbles @meowmeowminnie @chwenott @mewheree @freshdetectivenight @ffumatthew

If y'all wanna be added to the taglist of part 2 or the permanent taglist, then just drop a comment under this. thank you☆

"Yah Jun that's sheer daylight cheating boy" your cushiony hands land a hard smack onto the oldest's upper thighs, making him let out a sharp gasp, mostly from the fear of letting you see the growing tent in his trousers.

"If that means discarding one more piece of clothing down that velvety skin of yours, then I'm ready to beat jeonghan hyung's records" Junhui blurts out with absolutely no shame or filter, resulting in your cheek muscles tensing up to flush a subtle pink.

Yes you three were playing this weird game that Jun himself suggested with his obvious intentions that were unknown to the rest two of you, till now!! For you what seemed to be an innocent, maybe a little spicy game, to draw the boredom out of you, wonwoo and jun from not having dates to go to senior prom, now had you sitting infront of these two men in just your pants and lacey purple bra.

Not that you minded being half naked before your best friends though, as being single for more than 10 months have now elevated your libido to the very edge. Apart from that, Jun was incredibly hot and flirty to not have your legs slump whenever he had his hands on you or even his mere words were enough to have you sweating down your core.

What you did not know or anticipate was the second older's burning lusty eyes towards your nearly bare torso, digging wells into that cloth that was guarding your enchanting assests from him. "Are you two done with the bickerings? Let's finish this quick pls"

"Why Jeon? So that you can go play that goddamn games of yours? Or are you...." Jun shifts his gaze from you onto wonwoo, resting his palms on the younger's thighs, giving him a teasing look with the hope to ignite the self controlling hold he has been trying to put onto his desires.

Wonwoo immediately shys away, trying to hide the red creeping up onto his face and following the feeling down to his pants, pushing off Jun's hands in the process. "Or w-what?"

"Or are you scared to show y/n how hard you are from just watching her strip down her top, hmm?" Jun moves his palms to wonwoo's lap once again, drawing light circles on his upper thighs, dangerously close to the strain in his pants, while his eyes fall on you whose mouth was quite literally left hanging open after hearing the older's shameless blabberings.

"Rest those muscles of yours baby, they would need to work a lot later" and with that Jun rolls the dice once again! Lord looks like all the heavens were against your sanity today, as the result flipped out to your defeat, for the third time in a row, and you very well knew what that meant - losing the very last piece of deceny left on your body.

Looking up at Jun with those doe eyes of yours, hands playing with the waistband of your jeans, hope aflame in yours eyes that he would ask you not to provide a free strip show for them anymore.....but alas! The only thing you receive is a nod from him directing you to pull those pants down your legs right now.

"Fuck you Jun! I'm sure you fixed the game just to tease me!!"

"You will soon babygirl, don't worry. But just not only me" he finally gets up from the floor, pulling along wonwoo by his shoulders, while turning towards you to see you now standing up by yourself to get those jeans off of your body. Your eyes were too focused on the material of your clothing to notice the two men towering above, their faces dangerously close to yours.

Being done with taking off your final piece of modesty, you finally lift up your head only to be met with Jun's breath fanning against your nose, while wonwoo blocked out the little space you had left to run away from this rendezvous.

"W-what!" you try to back up only to be hit by the paddings of the couch behind, nearly falling down if it wasn't for Jun's biceps holding you up, although the other option would've been way better, now that you feel his hands creeping up your bare back and play with the hooks of your bra.

"You think being stripped down to this purple lingerie with two men infront of you, more appropriately starving men, be the climax of tonight's adventures?" the oldest now pushes you down to the couch, spreading your legs with his to stand between them, all this while directing wonwoo to kneel down beside you by the handrest.

"We're in for a long night, right Jeon?" Jun snakes his arms behind you to slightly arch up your body, giving him enough space to discard your bra off of your chest quickly, while his knees were now bend up against your clothed cunt, grinding them on your clit.

"Kiss her wonwoo. Show her you're not just a loser who sits in his room and plays games". His remark was fueling enough for wonwoo's ego as he swiftly descends his face down to yours, trapping your lips into his, hands going around your jaw to hold you as close to him as possible.

The little bit of doubt and control that was clouding your mind from jumping right in was now cleared off as you get a taste of wonwoo, his mouth taking yours in completely, eating out your face as if he has never felt something as sweet as your lips.

The sweaty cat's hands tightly tug onto your hair as he feels you moaning into his mouth, from the sudden sensation of Jun's cold fingers drawing over your bare nipples, the sharpness of his ring leaving behind a trail of painful pleasure on your tits.

"Won't you help the poor boy out y/n? Ease out the painful boner that was caused by this sultry body of yours, hmm?" Jun takes one of you hands that was trapped behind you all this time and guides it to wonwoo's crotch, holding it down to push against his bulge constantly, making the younger bite on your lips from the heat building up.

You couldn't believe yourself as you were now palming wonwoo's dick from over his pants while Jun was playing with your boobs, spitting on them for his hands to glide down easily, pinching your nipples between his digits as he kneaded onto your mounds like he was gonna make bread out of them, knees never taking a break from rubbing your pussy.

"F-fuck y/n, I don't....don't wanna cum in my pants....stop pls!" wonwoo quickly pushes you back, detaching his lips from yours leaving behind a string of saliva still joining the two of you, as he fears that if you move your hands against his dick once more, he'll come undone then and there, which he definitely did not want.

The sudden absence of his warmth on your mouth and the absurd behavior of the elder, makes your eyes flash by a confused look, turning towards Jun as if to ask him why did wonwoo behave like that and what was their next step.

"I think it's time for us to take this to the bedroom. This couch is too small to accommodate both of us in you" your mouth literally hangs open at this as you slowly come to terms with the fact that tonight you were about to be railed by two men simultaneously. Not that you hated the idea tho.

Observing the accepting look on your face, Jun asks wonwoo to take you in his arms and bring you upstairs to the said bedroom, as he knew quite well that your legs were probably too weak to walk themselves up, after all the action his knees have been giving you for the past fifteen minutes.

Wonwoo carrying you like a sloth with your arms tied tightly around his neck as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, feels like nothing more than a dream for you. His broad shoulders shielding you from all the chaos of this world, his embrace feeling like home and his dick poking your butt from beneath - all was like a made up fairytale for you until Jun's voice decides to pull you out of the haze.

"What are you waiting for Jeon? Throw her on the bed. Let's see how well her pussy takes two cocks at the same time"