#i would love to just place above one dog

[abirddogmoment]

Another dog show in the books!

We showed in a sporting dog specialty this morning and she did beautifully! Great stacking, great gaiting, honestly just awesome. The judge really focused on expression which is not our strong suit (Rory bounces between a melted "omg you're my best friend in the world" face and a "I can't see you there's a pepperoni I want" face) and she ultimately awarded it to the other dog in our class. I felt like she gave Rory a fair look though and Rory really did great!

We also showed in an all breed show this afternoon but unfortunately it was so so so so so warm and the show was so delayed we went in a little frazzled. Rory tried her best but she was a little overwhelmed and really tired so we didn't gait well. The judge also mumbled instructions and I couldn't tell what she wanted me to do (I was first in our class) and I feel like she just gave up on having me do things. She gave Rory a really thorough look before she awarded the other dog though so that was nice!

I'm excited for tomorrow! It is unfortunately another afternoon show but we don't have anything in the morning so hopefully we can get in the game. We have a lot of really nice competition so I'm not expecting anything, but it's been really nice practice so far anyway!

[katsu28]

through the years

pairing: lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: a few glimpses into lando's journey of being in love with his best friend's sister. (5.9k) see request here!

a/n: r is three years older than max and lando. this has been a work in progress for months and was truly so so fun to write <3

sixteen

Lando’s tucking his helmet back into its protective case when he hears someone say your name.

He straightens up like he’s been electrocuted, nearly hitting his head on the shelf above him at how fast he looks up. If he had ears like a dog, they’d be perked. 

His eyes land on you chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize, and his heart skips a beat in his chest.

See, Lando has a massive crush on you, probably since before he knew what a crush was. All he knows is that you’re a few years older, his best friend’s sister, and the most perfect person he’s ever known. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen in love with you the moment he met you at one of Max’s and his races. 

But at only sixteen (nearly seventeen) years old, did he even know what love felt like?

Not really, but if Lando was being completely honest, he imagines it was the same feeling he got whenever he climbed into a kart—thrilling, exciting, a little bit of fear that he might puke. 

He hasn’t seen you in a while though. You’ve been off at university for a year now, somewhere far off, but Max had said something (read: complained) about you being home for summer break.

Lando thinks he might be more happy about it than your own brother is. 

“Hey!” Lando calls, raising a hand in greeting. You lift your sunglasses at the sound of another voice, squinting in the bright sunlight to see who’s shouting at you now. When your eyes land on him, you smile, waving back. Lando grins, one that only grows bigger as you start to make your way over to him. 

“Looked good out there today, Lan. You’re getting pretty quick on the straights,” You say on approach.

He’s had a little bit of a growth spurt this past year, so he’s no longer craning his neck to look at you, but you’ve still got quite a bit of height on him as you reach out to ruffle his hair playfully. 

“Thanks! Have you, erm, have you been here the whole time?” Lando’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, mortifying him, but luckily you don’t seem to notice. You’re too occupied looking around the track for something, or someone. 

“Nah, I just got here, like twenty minutes ago? Mum told me to give Max a lift home.” You shrug. Lando fights the urge to let out a relieved sigh. Thank god you weren’t here to see him nearly spin out into the gravel on the last corner. That would’ve been embarrassing. “Have you seen him, by the way? I need to wring his neck.” 

A surprised honk of laughter splutters from Lando’s mouth. “What did he do now?” 

“Little shit broke one of mum’s good dinner plates and blamed it on me! S’why I’m here playing chauffeur,” You sigh, shaking your head. “Grounded during summer holidays, can you believe it? I’m basically Max’s personal shuttle, so it looks like you’re going to be seeing quite a bit of me for a while. Nightmare, innit?” 

“Not really. It’d be nice to see you around more again.” 

“You’re sweet, Lan. The punishment might be worth it to see your cute face all the time.” You wink at him, pinching his cheek gently. 

He knows you don’t mean it in the way he wants you to mean it. You still see him as just your little brother’s best friend, still a kid. But he’s older now, more mature. His voice is starting to drop, and he’s going places in his racing career by this point. He wonders if you know he’s joining McLaren’s Young Driver Programme next year. He wonders if you’d be impressed by it. 

“Hang on. I’ve got to take this, it’s my mum. Probably demanding I stop off at the shops on the way home,” You sigh, holding up your buzzing phone. “Do me a favor, be a darling and go find my idiot brother, would you?” You answered the call before he could nod, walking a ways away to talk to your mum. 

Lando remains rooted in place, watching you pace back and forth. 

“What’re you looking at?” Max pops up next to him out of the blue, bumping his shoulder rather roughly. It doesn’t phase him though, because he’s used to Max’s antics at this point. 

Instead, he sighs. “D’you think she’d ever like me?” 

“Who?” 

Lando nods his head in your direction, looking rather wistful. Max follows his friend’s line of sight until his gaze lands on you, on the phone, looking less than pleased. 

“Are you fucking with me? Please tell me you’re fucking with me,” He asks, wrinkling his nose at Lando. Even though you’re three years older than him, Max was wildly overprotective over you. Lando shakes his head. He is most definitely serious. “Mate, that’s my sister.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“That’s disgusting.” 

Lando scoffs, giving Max a shove. “You’re disgusting.” 

“So you’re telling me that every time you’ve asked me where she’s been, what she’s been up to, it’s ‘cause you fancy her?” 

“Maybe. Yeah. I think she’s amazing.” 

“I’m gonna throw up. I’m actually going to throw up, oh my god.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” Lando rolls his eyes, picking up his things. 

“You’re hot for my sister, how am I being dramatic? I think I’m being quite calm about this.” 

“It’s nothing, really. She probably won't ever see me as anything but a little kid.” 

“Oh, you never know. You’re getting bigger, mate. Stacking on the height, packing on the muscle.” He fakes two punches to Lando’s torso, grunting overdramatically when Lando pushes him away with another roll of his eyes. “Soon enough you won’t be able to keep the ladies off you, ya stud.” 

“Thanks? You do know we’re still talking about your sister, right?” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah, still gross.” 

“Oi, Max. Let’s go or mum’ll have my head if we don’t get home by dinner,” You grumble, reappearing behind Max and shoving him upside the head. Your gaze softens when it turns on Lando. “Bye, Lan. See you soon.”

Lando manages to get out a goodbye without his voice cracking again, thank god. He wants to go in for a hug, because part of him thinks it might lift your spirits, but knows Max would never let him hear the end of it. So he just settles for a slightly awkward wave before you turn on your heel and head for the car. 

Max rolls his eyes. Then he smiles deviously, pointing at your retreating figure with one hand and Lando with the other, before smashing them both together, all while making overexaggerated kissy noises. He seems to have forgotten his previous disgust quite easily. 

“Fuck off!” Lando hisses, flipping off his friend. 

“I’ll leave you behind, Maximillian!” You warn, not even turning around to threaten your brother. Max rolls his eyes again, but doesn't hesitate in hurrying after you so you won't leave him stranded at the track. 

Lando manages to catch your eye once as you’re pulling out of the car park and he waves again, trying but probably failing to stifle the goofy grin spreading across his face at the wave you gave him back. 

God, he’s so down bad for you. 

That year, however, the months went on, Lando found himself noticing that you came home less and less often, and not even for school breaks the following year. Max wouldn’t talk about it, but it was obvious it was somewhat of a sore subject, so Lando never pushed.

He’d always wondered what happened, but soon enough, his life became far too hectic to sit around thinking about all the what if’s and the why not’s. All he could do was hope you were doing okay. 

-------

twenty

It’s hard to believe Max is turning twenty-one.

So will Lando, later in the year, but for now he remains a very youthful looking twenty years old. 

Max invites a handful of people to a quiet dinner, nothing too flashy, nothing too fancy. Just a nice dinner with close friends and good food. His birthday sits right between race weeks, so Lando is fortunate enough to be able to carve out an evening for his best friend. 

Now he’s sitting at the end of a long table, sipping a lemon sparkling water as the first few of their friends start to trickle in. He’d arrived unfashionably early under the guise of offering to help Max iron out last minute details, set up, things like that.

In reality, the reason why he’d turned up so early was you. 

Lando doesn’t know if Max invited you, and if he did, he doesn’t know if you’d actually come. But on the off chance that you do choose to make an appearance, Lando wants to be the first one to see you. 

Naturally, he spots you the second you walk in, and he’s instantly transported back to when he was an awkward teenager, pathetically pining over his best friend’s sister with absolutely no shot.

Hell, he’s still pining over you. He thought whatever feelings he had for you would’ve faded over the years, but one look at you and everything comes rushing back. 

He thought he’d prepared himself for this, for seeing you again, but one thing that rises above all the other thoughts flooding his brain is that he’s not over you. Not by a long shot. 

He watches you make your way over to your brother and hug him. You lean in close to say something into his ear, and suddenly you’re both looking directly at him.

Lando startles, nearly spilling his drink, but he manages to compose himself quickly. That swoopy feeling he used to get whenever you made your way over to him is back in full swing again. He scrambles to his feet. 

“Hey, Lan!” You greet him keenly, wrapping him in a warm hug. Your perfume washes over him as you do, and he fights the urge to sigh happily. You still wear the same one you always did. He remembers because he’d more or less conditioned himself to associate the nice scent with you. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Lando chuckles breathlessly, praying you’re not able to feel how fast his heart is beating through his shirt. “Too long.” 

You pull away, holding him at arms’ length, studying him with bright eyes. “You’re taller than me now.” 

“I’d hope so. M’not sixteen anymore.” 

“No, you’re not. You look good though, ” You say. You look like you mean it truthfully. 

“How’ve you been?”

“Been better, but I’m…getting by, all things considered.” You shrug, sliding into the chair next to him.

Both of you swing sideways to face each other at the same time, knees knocking into each other as you do. You share an apologetic smile. Your hand blankets his where it rests on the table, squeezing a few times as your eyes light up with excitement. 

You aren’t aware of just how much that one little move affects Lando. 

“But what about you, McLaren’s newest Formula One driver? That’s so amazing. Seriously. I’m proud of you.”  

He’s heard the compliment loads during his rookie year, but hearing it come from you makes his cheeks flush pink. He can feel the comfort of your words spreading from his face into his chest, tendrils of warmth wrapping around his rib cage. You’re proud of him, and it feels like he’s just won the world championship. 

“Thank you,” He squeaks. 

“I always knew you’d do great things.” 

“You’ve been keeping up with my career?” 

“‘Course I have,” You say warmly, nodding like it’s obvious. “It’s not everyday you can say you’ve known one of the up and coming talents of Formula 1 since you were kids.” 

“We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?” 

“You, yeah. Me…well, let’s just say I’m still trying to figure things out.” 

“You’re doing the best you can, aren’t you? Shouldn’t that be all that matters?” 

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Lan. I needed to hear that.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you, and Lando feels the need to break it. 

“Y’know, I didn't know if you’d come. Since…y’know, whatever’s been going on all this time.” He doesn’t mean to prod, doesn’t mean it as anything other than him drawing a huge blank about why you haven’t been around. 

Your expression still grows somber, brows creasing ever so slightly. “Max hasn’t told you anything?” 

“Seemed like a sore subject, so I never pushed.” 

“You must have a lot of questions then.” You murmur, tracing an idle finger over the pristine white table cloth. “About why I’ve been basically nonexistent for years.” 

“I don't need to know. You’re here now, that's all that matters.” 

“Y’know, you’ve always been so thoughtful, Lando. When we were all kids and Max was being…well, Max, you were always looking out for me, even though you didn’t have to.” 

“I cared about you. Still do.” 

It’s true. Lando cares about you in more ways than one, in more ways than just your little brother’s best friend should, but it isn’t something that he can help. You’ve still got him wrapped around your finger without even knowing it. 

“So sweet.” You smile, squeezing his hand appreciatively, and Lando feels like he’s just been shown a new purpose. He wants to be the one to make you smile like this all the time, something he’s known in his heart for years. “So, tell me more about you. What’s it like in the big leagues?” 

You wind up spending all night glued to each other’s side, filling one another in on what’s been going on in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Granted, it’s a bit more of him doing most of the talking with you on the listening end, but he gets the sense you’d rather have it that way. 

He’ll gladly talk for hours if it meant you looking at him with the pride in your eyes you’ve had the whole night. 

Eventually, the party rolls to an end, as all good nights unfortunately do. Lando wants to stay here, stay with you, but he can’t. He’s got an early morning and a day full of training tomorrow, so he’ll settle for walking you to your car after you’ve both said goodbye to Max. 

You’ve got your arm looped through his as you make your way out of the restaurant with the rest of the dinner guests. 

“This one’s me.” You jut your chin at the car coming up. If Lando isn’t mistaken, you almost sound kind of sad, but maybe he’s just looking too much into things because he doesn't want to leave. You leave his side, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Thank you for keeping me company all night, Lando. It was really nice to see you again.” 

“Likewise. I’ve…” He trails off into an airy chuckle, shoulders creeping towards his shoulders instinctively. For a moment, he wonders if he should even say anything. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” You say softly, giving him a small smile. Lando feels his chest tighten at the sincerity in your tone. Then you step forward and wrap your arms around his neck in a hug and suddenly he’s just about ready to melt as his arms slide around you to return the embrace. 

He isn’t expecting your lips against his cheek, or the way they linger a little longer than to be expected before you step away again. Heat blooms where you kiss him, zipping through his veins like the thrill of pushing the highest speed down the home straight towards the checkered flag. 

“Don’t forget about me when you get to be a big hot shot in the racing world,” You say, only slightly teasing. 

“Don’t think I could.” 

He watches you get into your car and drive away, hands in his pockets, wishing he was brave enough to tell you how he feels about you. Some other time, maybe. One day he’ll muster up the confidence to say something. 

-------

twenty four

No matter how many times Lando comes home to race at Silverstone, the feeling never goes away.

A mix of joy, pride, the unmistakable vice-like grip of anxiety. Lando is excited, no doubt, but all he wants to do is make his home crowd proud. His family is here, his friends are here. Everyone is counting on him to do something amazing.

He’s got a hundred things to do before he has to head down to the garage to gear up, a methodical mental checklist to get through in not a lot of time.

Buzzing with nervous energy, he paces the top level of the motorhome, amping himself up while also trying to calm himself down. He’s barely managed to eat anything all day, as evident by the basically untouched chicken wrap sitting on the table next to him. 

Sure, he’s raced at Silverstone before, but this is the first year he actually has a shot at winning the whole thing. The car has proved to be a speed demon, and he’s been killing it this season, but neither of those help his nerves. 

It makes his stomach twist more than anything. It’s one thing to not win because he doesn't have the facilities to do it, it's entirely worse to know he can win and still let everyone down. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Lando Norris.” 

He freezes at the unexpected voice. Your voice.

His mind flashes back to the last time he saw you, at Max’s birthday party. How you talked all night, and kissed him on the cheek before you parted ways. 

It’s been three years since then, and you’ve stayed in close touch with each other, but you haven’t seen each other in person since that night. It isn’t either of your faults—life got in the way and neither of yours lined up. Nonetheless, he’s grown closer to you these past few years than he ever has, which definitely doesn’t help the massive crush he still has on you. 

Part of him thinks he really needs to move on—he’s been in love with you for so many years he doesn’t even remember the exact number, but his feelings remain the same. Any relationship he’s tried to have, just to see if he could ever love someone else, has never lasted.

Lando thinks he might be stuck on you his whole life, if the entirety of his teenage years and first few of his young adult years have been any indication. 

He’s very prone to wanting things he can’t have, it seems. 

Lando gives his head a shake because it couldn’t be you. You couldn’t be here, because last he heard from Max, you were somewhere out of the country on a work trip and wouldn’t be able to make it to Silverstone for the race. It’s a bummer for sure, but Lando knows you would've come if you could. Max told him you sounded downright upset about it on your check in call earlier in the week to break the news. 

He turns slowly, hesitantly. Hopefully. His fingers tighten on the water bottle he’s got clutched in his hands. 

There you are, looking back at him like something straight out of his dreams. 

You’re older now, as he is too, but there’s something different about you. About how you hold yourself. Like you've finally settled into the person you were meant to be. It isn’t something he could’ve clocked in on through texts and grainy video calls, but he sees it now, clear as day. 

“Hi.” 

“You’re here,” He breathes, disbelieving. He isn’t able to stop himself from rushing forward, bringing you into a very tight, very excited hug that lifts you off your feet.

You let out a surprised noise at his enthusiasm, barely managing to hook an arm over around his shoulders so you wouldn’t go flailing as he spins you around.

He puts you down soon after, still beaming as he takes you in. “How are you here? I thought—Max said you were on a work trip!” 

“I asked him to keep it a secret,” You chuckle, spreading a palm across his chest to steady yourself. “Wanted to surprise you for your home race. Hope that’s okay?” 

“More than okay! It’s so good to see you again,” He insists, folding you into another, albeit much quicker hug. He holds you at arm's length right after. “You look really good.” 

“I feel good,” You say sincerely. “Think I’m finally getting the hang of this whole life thing.” 

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you for pushing through, sticking it out,” Lando murmurs, just as genuine. There’s nothing better than seeing you finally find a good place, happy with where you are and what you’re doing. It’s all he’s ever wanted for you. 

“Thank you. But oh my god, look at you!” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. You pinch his cheeks the same way you used to do, but the way you’re looking at him feels much different than before.

There’s something that isn’t quite the same, like something about what you think of him has changed. The thought burrows its way deeper into his brain when one hand slides down to his chest for a few beats.

“You’ve grown up quite a bit again, haven’t you?” 

He laughs, a little high pitched and a little breathless. “Yeah well, you know what they say about second puberty.” 

“Still got the same cute laugh though.” You smile at him brightly, and it's like the sun has just poked its way through the dreary British fog for the first time in ages. His heart does an involuntary tap dance against his ribcage. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Sorry if I, like, disturbed your pre-race rituals or anything, I just wanted to pop in and say hi before things get crazy.” 

“No, no, I’m glad you did. I think I needed to see a familiar face. Between you and me, I’m kinda freaking out.” 

“Oh, Lan,” You sigh, squeezing his hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Hope so.” 

“You will,” You insist firmly. “Don’t think about the people, don’t think about the crowd. Just trust your gut, and drive like hell.” 

Lando didn’t know it before, but your words are exactly the thing he needs right now. He sighs deeply, letting his shoulders relax just the slightest bit. 

“Anyways, I better go. Max is probably wondering where I’ve wandered off to.” 

He clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “Yeah, I should—I probably need to get going as well.” 

“Good luck, be safe, all that. I’ll be the loudest one cheering you on.” 

Lando hears himself call out your name when you’re a few steps away from the door. You turn back to him, and he knows this is the moment. He’s about to do something he’s never had the balls to do before, never in the nine years he’s been in love with you. Only today, right here, he’s never felt more sure of himself. 

He’s trusting his gut. 

“Would you wanna grab a drink tonight? Dinner too, if you’re up for it?” 

“Yeah, ‘course! I’ll text my brother, see if he’s free.” 

“No,” He blurts. You arch a surprised brow at his sudden outburst. “Sorry, I just—I meant like, maybe just the two of us.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments, and it feels like the longest couple seconds of his life. But then you nod, breaking into a big grin. “I’d really like that.”

Lando doesn’t want to get his hopes up in fear of possibly jinxing it, but it feels like maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance with you. After all these years, he’s no longer just a little kid to you, no longer just your little brother’s best friend.

The thought of that pumps him up better than a race in front of his home crowd ever could.

-------

twenty five

He’s done it. 

Lando's just won in Abu Dhabi, gotten his fourth win of his career—his fourth win of the season. McLaren has just won the constructor’s championship for the first time in twenty six years, and Lando’s been an instrumental part in making it happen. 

The moment he steps out onto the front of the car, hears the crowd cheering for him, he can barely even believe it. It doesn’t feel real at all. 

He wants to find you. He knows you’re here somewhere, probably with his family in the garage. He also knows he doesn’t have the time to find you, not until after he’s taken care of his post race duties. 

Lando doesn't see you until he returns to the pit lane in front of the McLaren garage.

The whole team is gathered there, chattering excitedly amongst themselves. He can feel the energy buzzing through the atmosphere, the pure excitement and joy of a long awaited championship not only for everyone here, but the whole team of papaya back at the factory too. 

This is their time as much as it is his, if not even more. They’re the reason he’s able to live this dream every single day, and for that, he’ll never be able to say enough thank yous. 

Instead, he’ll work even harder next season, keep pushing and honing his craft until he’s able to truly show his gratitude towards them. 

But for now, he’ll celebrate. After a long, grueling (but fulfilling) season, he’s earned that. 

He breaks into a jog towards the huddle, breaking into a face-splitting grin as he jumps into the team celebrations happily. Person after person clap him on the back on his way to his place beside the giant papaya sign, even after the team photo is taken and he gets doused by champagne from all sides. 

Lando feels like a million bucks. This feeling has been a long time coming, a long time needed. If he could bottle it up and save it forever, he would. 

There’s only one thing that could make this moment even better. 

He turns to the crowd behind the barriers, searching, searching, searching for his loved ones until— 

There you are, standing with his family just as he’d thought you’d be, cheering so hard he thinks you might even be crying. 

Man, are you a sight for sore eyes. You’ve both been busy the past few weeks, him with this triple header and you with your job. You’d barely made it to this race, but he’s happy you’re here. Even happier you were here to see him win. 

He makes his way towards you all, doling out hugs to everyone, not able to wipe the smile from his face as he chats with each of them. 

His parents, his sister, and finally…you. 

You’re beaming just as big as he is when he stops in front of you, flinging your arms around his neck in the tightest hug. He lets out a sigh of content, lifting you off your feet a bit in a hug just as tight, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he does so. 

“Hi, baby,” He breathes, running his hands down from your shoulders to your forearms as soon as he puts you down again. “What’d you think?” 

“What do I think?” You exclaim, taking his face in your hands. “I think you did amazing! I think I’ve cried, like, four times already since the race ended, honestly.” 

He laughs, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “I made you cry?” 

“Yeah, you made me cry, you muppet! I’m so fucking proud of you,” You tell him, sounding nothing but truly sincere. There’s tears in your eyes again, happy tears for him, and he feels a surge of adoration bloom in his chest. “Congratulations, Lan. You’re destined for so much greatness, I know it.” 

He’s sweaty, sticky, and doused in champagne, but he still feels on top of the world at the joy in your eyes.

“I love you,” He blurts. He couldn’t have stopped the words spilling from his mouth even if he tried. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s knowing there’s no better time than the present, but it’s out there now. The past five months you’ve been dating have been absolutely mint, but Lando doesn’t think he could’ve gone another moment without telling you. 

You let out a watery sort of chuckle, sliding a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and bringing him in for a kiss.

You’ve kissed before—a lot, actually—but this one feels different. Better. The giant secret that he’s been holding in from you for years and years is finally out, and it’s like a weight lifted off his chest. 

“I love you too, Lan,” You murmur, words pressed against his lips like they're something reserved only for him. “God, I love you.” 

There goes his heart right then, the last piece of his heart that he’d saved for the day he wasn’t sure would ever come. The last piece of his heart that belonged to him now belongs to you, and in this moment, you’ve got all of it. 

All of Lando’s heart is now yours. 

Lando didn’t think this day could get any better, but now there’s this. The woman of his dreams, the one he’s been in love with since you were both kids, finally loves him back.

He’s not sure what heaven is like, but Lando imagines it might be something like this.

Here, under the Abu Dhabi sky, he’s gotten the championship, he’s finally gotten his girl. To him, there’s nothing better than it. 

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[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, anal, suggestiveness & pressuring

fem reader

Thinking about really boyfriendly boyfriends – simpy and helpful and sweet – boyfriend material perfectly cut as if custom-ordered – boxed and shipped and sent express mail from the boyfriend factory with love.

He’s interested in your hobbies and studies and is equally passionate about sharing his interests with you. He’s comfortable and playful with your family and makes a true effort to befriend your friends. He’s even outgoing at parties where he doesn’t know anyone but you instead of sulking and asking you to leave like so many past boyfriends have.

He likes sharing food, sings loudly in the car, texts you throughout the day, and calls you when he’s at the store before coming over, asking if you need or want anything. He’s open and honest and geeks over new releases – that movie trailer, that game, those sneakers, that album, that car, and all that other boy stuff – and yet never fails to tell you how beautiful you are every time he sees you.

And he likes taking you on dates – cinema, arcade, roller rink, amusement park, road trips, picnics, beach days – or simply hanging out at his or your place – making food, binging a series in bed, kissing and dry-humping…

He’s just, all in all, everything you could’ve ever wished for. Perfect in every way.

Only… there hasn’t been a single time he’s had you in bed where he hasn’t all but begged to fuck your ass…

He’s literally crying for it while moaning, “Please~ lemme put it in~ just wanna try it once, please, baby~” with his hands squeezing your butt over your shorts and his head under your shirt, kissing and sucking your tits with the prayers on his lips as he humps his tented crotch against your clothed cunt – making your panties hot and damp. 

You squeeze your eyes shut with a suppressed whine.

He keeps pleading, “I’ll be gentle~ just the tip~ I’ll go so slow~”

His fingers dig into the crevice of your cheeks, wedging your shorts and undies through your slit. Everything clenches from the friction.

Your face is heated, biting your lip with cinched brows. You knew he’d ask for it again today – he never doesn’t. Even though he’ll get pussy-drunk and pound your poor womb in a tight mating press the second he’s made you cum on his fingers. 

He slurps your nipple, still begging, “Please, baby, please~ it’ll feel so good~ so-so-so good~”

You’d been deliberating giving in to his incessant proposals for a little while. He’d been so unrelenting you were starting to feel bad denying him for so long.

Not like past boyfriends hadn’t been equally relentless in the ask.

But this one was different… unlike the others… you really like him. 

You think you might be in love with him, even though it’s a little early to say.

Still… since he’s so perfect… you want to do your best to be perfect for him, too.

So you’d made yourself ready for it this time – done preparations in the shower. 

But… you pout… it was all so embarrassing, and your poor mind was riddled with doubts as though you were a virgin all over again. 

What if something… gross happens? What if it hurts so bad you have to stop? Will it disappoint him? What if you hate it but go through with it anyway, only for him to keep asking? What if you have to break up because you won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again?

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” His voice slips through the inner turmoil.

He’d resurfaced from beneath your shirt on account of your silence, only to see you’d covered your face in both hands. He gently peels them away – revealing your eyes and the shy way you nibble your lip.

“I’m sorry…” He apologizes then. “I’ll stop asking-” 

“No!” You blurt. To his surprise – staring at you with those big puppy-dog eyes you just couldn’t handle seeing look so disheartened. “I mean…” 

You look away, cheeks burning – voice just barely above a whisper. 

“If you really want to… I’m fine with it…”

He seemed to perk up at that. If he’d had a tail, you know it would be wagging behind him. 

His chest swelled, eyes big and unblinking, swallowing thickly – breaths already thick with containment. 

He leans in close and nose-kisses you, brushing your lips with heated words, “Really? You’ll let me?”

You made a small sound, too humiliated to say or do much more than nod your head in confirmation.

He seemed to shudder, closing the space between you, kissing your lips softly – he tasted like static – buzzing with restricted urgency. Parting with a soft-spoken yet strained, “Thank you.”

Both his hands messaged your waist – fiddled with the band to your shorts as though he couldn’t wait to drag them down your thighs and free you.

Still speaking against your lips, “Can you turn around on your knees for me?”

Everything was burning – from the tips of your ears to your lips and deep down in your stomach where something equally hungry and anxious was preparing for something.

He moved back to allow you to crawl into position, taking a pillow and placing it underneath you – patting it while telling you to “Lie down.” 

You did like suggested, lying with your face and chest against the soft plume, sinking into it with your back in a slope and your ass presented. Heart pounding in your head, loud and hot, as he took position behind you – placing his hand back on your hips.

He hooked his fingers into the band of your shorts again, pulling them back over the fat of your haunches, then dragged them down slowly until they pooled around your knees. You felt the damp heat of his breath immediately hit the peach fuzz on the small of your back – seeping through the cotton of your panties – making your belly brew with butterflies. 

“Just relax, okay? Tell me to stop if I go too far.” He said, sensing how you quaked as he placed both palms on your globes – denting the plump flesh with greedy fingers.

It’s not like you haven’t fucked in this position before – it’s just that you knew this time was going to be different. You felt so exposed.

He fingered the frill of your panties and started peeling them off – baring your naked skin and the pretty dip between your cheeks. 

You yelped. His mouth was on you before he’d even finished undressing you – placing a sloppy half-bite half-kiss on your upper ass before proceeding to slurp the crack.

You whimpered – flustered and flushed as the heat of his tongue laid wet trails down through the valley until his lips met with your rim. You shuffled your thighs and balled the pillow in small fists as he groaned into you. Shamelessly squeezing your fat with his hands, spreading the cheeks to let him at your little puckered hole.

Your eyes screwed shut while you hid your face in the pillow beneath you – muffling all uneasy sounds as he canted his mouth against your ass. Chin rutting into your puffy cunt while bobbing his jaw, lipping at your taint and rim – nose nuzzled between your cheeks – mouth fully closed around you – moaning at the feel of it pulsing on the tip of his tongue as he runs it over the tight scrunch again and again.

Your shoulders brace as he tries and screw the wet muscle inside. You tense up way too tight for it to happen.

He smacks off with a raunchy sigh. Your heart is in your throat. 

Slick from your ignored cunt feels sticky on your swelled pussy-lips – hot and twitching in the cool air.

He pops the cap of the little bottle of lube the two of you always keep on hand. You flinch when his slick fingers come back to rub your hole. He gives it slow and soothing circles before easing the tip inside. Filling you up only to the first joint, waiting for you to relax and loosen before sinking the rest inside. 

He hums at the display, groaning, “Fuuh-ck~” Sliding the digit in knuckle-deep before slipping it out to the tip again – repeating the motion while feeling your muscles ripple around it. “You’re so cute, baby~ so pretty~”

He bows and places a chaste kiss on your buttcheek, laying his face on it like a pillow – his eyes half-mast while looking at his finger disappear inside you.

He works another in with the first, shuffling them – messaging the tightness, slowly training it to stretch. His hot breath fans over your wet skin, making you go goosefleshed.

“Fuck, baby – so pretty with my fingers inside yah~” He hums, almost in a whine while curling them inside you. “So fucking hot how you swallow and squeeze on ‘em like that~”

He pulls himself up again, tugging on his belt with one hand – keeping on fingering you with the other. 

His pants drop to the floor a moment later, and he lifts his neglected cock out of the sticky mess he’d made in his boxers – throbbingly fat and hard, pulsing in his fist and leaking pre, another pearl each time he rubs over the bulge of his tip.

He looks at your hole – eyes misty. You seem to have loosened up a bit – enough for him to part his fingers.

He pulls them both out with a schlick. “I think you’re ready…” His voice is sticky – stuck to his throat. “I’m gonna try ‘n put it in.”

Your hands curl into the pillow as you nod your head – eyes still squeezed shut. It hadn't felt too bad so far – just weird. Embarrassing and… clinical. A bit like a doctor’s visit. But you knew that would all change now.

His hands glide across your back, catching your crop top in balled fists, stretching it as his tip works on stretching out your opening – nudging against it, coaxing it into accepting the head.

“Fuh- oh fuck~” He moans, lost to the sight and feel of your butt seizing around him – closing up around his tip. 

You look so fucking perfect like that – face-down and kneeling with your ass pressed back against him – giving him your second virginity. 

His eyes flitter across the slope of your spine – looking over your creamy skin, looking so pretty, all glossy with dew, until he reaches your face. Your brows are pinched together, gnawing on your bottom lip, eyes shut tightly.

“Are you okay?” He pants.

You nod your head – curt and rushed.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You’re so perfect, so good to him – the best girlfriend he could have ever asked for. Trusting him like this, letting him do this even when you’re so nervous about it. You must really love him.

He’s nearly crying, holding onto your hips as he fucks you with just the tip – loosening the rim up and going just a little deeper for every shallow thrust. He nearly barrels over, standing there with his back hunched – bowing his head, looking at where the two of you connect while sweat drips from his weighted bangs.

“I love you, too.” He confesses out of the blue, and you blink, looking back at him – seeing his mouth parted with blissful moans, his eyes wet, and brows softly curled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect fo’me – so good.” 

He loves you so much he can barely take the blossoming in his chest, feeling like he wants to eat you up and swallow you whole. His girl – who laughs at all his silly jokes and holds his hand everywhere you go and doesn’t tease him when he yelps and holds you close during horror movies. His perfect perky girlfriend – who lets him fuck you raw and cum inside, and now… even letting him fuck your tight round ass for the very first time.

He's almost all the way in now – just a few more thrusts, and you’ll have him swallowed down to the base with his balls pressed firmly against the puffy lips of your wet pussy.

“Fuh-uuck-” He breathes out again, gripping your hips tight as he bottoms out. 

He nearly cums right then, having to bite his lip to hold back – savoring how you ripple and squeeze him – so tight and firm.

You’re such a good girl taking him so well and so deep, lying so sweetly beneath him with your ass presented – letting him nestle his entire length inside you. Curling your toes all cutely as you adjust with only pretty girly mews leaving you.

You didn’t expect him to mount you. 

But he does. Now standing with his feet in the bed, squatting over you with his cock sinking balls deep in your ass. Freshly broken-in, it’s tight and firm and twitchy as though it’s confused as to why there's a big fat cock stretching it out. 

He can’t help but smile, perched on top of you – hands still hooked upon your hips for balance while he leans forward, settling even deeper. 

You moan, and it nearly drives him wild. Barely holding himself together as he pulls out – wishing he had something to bite into instead of his lip as he focuses on the way your firm walls clench on him, clinging to his shaft so tightly it’s hard pulling out despite the wetness – it’s so good he’s losing it. 

He’s taking his perfect girlfriend in her perfect ass. And it feels so fucking good his hands leave their grip on your hips as he slugs forward, bending over you until his chest presses into your back, and his head rests on top of yours, cheek to cheek – slinging both arms around you, putting you in a headlock – leaving you to do nothing else but pant, squished between his biceps and his cock kisses your guts. 

“Can’t believe I'm fucking your little ass, baby.” He rants breathlessly. “It's so tight and good, gripping me so fuckin’ hard.” Huffing and groaning with his back hunched as he curves into your butt as deep as he can – stuffing into you from behind slowly and carefully as though he’s savoring every single flutter of you hugging him.

He’s barely even pulling out – kneading as far as his cock can reach instead – cock-warming himself inside you.

“Fuck, baby – I can cum inside, right?” He whimpers against you, kissing the corner of your mouth with his tongue out.

You’re so squished beneath him you can only just wheeze out the word. “O-okay-”

“Oh- fuck, I love you.” He cries when he blows, squeezing you so tight you’re choking as he pumps pulse after pulse of thick hot cum deep inside you. “I love you, I love you- love you- love you so much- so fuckin’ much-”

And you don’t know if it’s the confession, the headlock, or the cum being pumped up your guts – but your clit’s pulsing and your cunt’s twitching even though it’s around nothing, gushing down your shaking thighs as your butt pushes itself flush against your boyfriend’s cock, clenching hard around it and milking him free of every drop.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Touya-Dabi, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ AOT – Armin ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei, Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[moonstruckme]

A Christmas Special

summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you

cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say. 

He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed down to him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth. 

Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door. 

Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side. 

“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.” 

“It’s hardly quarter after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?” 

“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving. 

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

Your lashes kiss as you smile back at him, unwrapping your scarf. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?” 

“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.” 

You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to these things.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James (and by extension, Sirius) most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger. 

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand. 

“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous. 

You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts. 

“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.” 

You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.” 

Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises.

He goes into the kitchen. A second later, you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with your string trailing all the way back to the couch. 

“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat. 

“Mhm. You like them?” 

“Never had one.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?” 

You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned. 

“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments out of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat any. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.” 

“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.” 

“Yes!” you cheer. He laughs when you start working quicker with the needle. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.” 

“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour. 

Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives. 

You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her. 

You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock. 

“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!” 

You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple of sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms. 

“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Awe, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not very difficult, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.” 

“Sorry,” says Lily as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.” 

“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.” 

“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry. 

“Come here, my handsome little guy.” 

“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap. 

Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it. 

“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious sound Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again. 

“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly. 

“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.” 

“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

“I,” Remus cuts them off, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.” 

James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always find you avoiding everyone’s eyes. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry. 

“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax. 

“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story about a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?” 

“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists. 

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her home.” 

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees. 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.” 

Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.” 

“Bleak.” James looks slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”

“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”

“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”

You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.” 

James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you seem to have something from every person there. 

“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.” 

The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.” 

“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know. 

“Shit, I forgot to check.” 

“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, love.” 

“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile. 

“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.” 

“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one, it’s his favorite,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness. 

He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it. You’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge. 

You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go. 

“Oh, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”

You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands.

“No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.” 

“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.

“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir. 

“That’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”

You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is hiding the bashfulness in your smile. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.” 

“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.” 

Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn. 

“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.” 

“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.” 

You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.” 

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.” 

Remus smiles, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.” 

You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat. 

James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”

Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.” 

Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks fairly bad to me.” 

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live rather far?”

“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.” 

You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”

Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring.”

“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out. 

“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.” 

He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d rather if it didn’t come to that.”

“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a massive downer for us every year.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you insist. 

“Babe, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly formidable when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.

“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.” 

“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of fruitlessly on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you inside Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.

“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”

You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.” 

“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!” 

“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door. 

“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you. 

“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.” 

“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry while James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.” 

Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out. 

And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet. 

“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering. 

“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”

“No,” he agrees. The look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”

“Mm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.” 

The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you. Your knees are curled towards him and he has one leg crossed over the other, angling him towards you. 

The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.” 

His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”

“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”

“Mm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”

You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.

The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours. 

“Are you crying?” he murmurs during a scene near the end. 

Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.” 

“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.” 

“Sure it is.”

“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.” 

“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.” 

A while later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.

You hum a denial.

“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”

“Are you tired?” 

He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.” 

“I want to finish the movie.” 

He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.” 

Soon the credits start. Neither of you move. 

You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”

You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.” 

Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”

You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you. 

“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes. 

You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”

“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.” 

You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.” 

His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. You’re my guest, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” 

You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.” 

“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.” 

“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”

“Your back will hurt.” 

“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.” 

There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down. 

“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”

“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”

The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.” 

“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious. 

He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you.

“You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”

You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.” 

“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.” 

“You can think that if you like.” 

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.

Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his. You’re warm and weighty against him. 

He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing. 

Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb across your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while. 

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together. 

It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says. 

You hum. 

“Unless you mean it’s working.” 

Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.  

He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words. 

Remus sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you. 

“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.” 

He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.” 

Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him.

“Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.” 

He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you. 

Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back. 

“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his. 

Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. A low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.

“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to grant access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?” 

The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”

You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”

His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech. 

“Do you want to move to my room?” 

You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip. 

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?” 

“You’re relentless.”

Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?” 

Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

You always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth. 

You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him. 

You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this. 

“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to Remus’ voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?” 

Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d asked you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating this warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you. 

Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees.

“You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it. 

You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy. 

“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”

Exactly, you think. It’s you. 

“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him. 

His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”

If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no. 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?” 

You swallow. “Okay.” 

“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?” 

You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater. He tosses it onto the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress.

His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan. He kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward. 

One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. 

It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline. 

“We can stop anytime you want.” 

You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.” 

Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs out further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.

You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue. He wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time. 

Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, tugging feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under. 

“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound. 

Remus looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil. 

“Come here,” you plead. 

He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you promise. You cup his head in one hand and wrap your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.” 

You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens. 

“Do you think—can we—”

He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?” 

“I want to. Do you?” 

Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.” 

You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces. 

He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another. 

“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?” 

You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his mouth, but it’s still a bit shocking.

His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?” 

“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.” 

He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you. 

“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?” 

Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside of you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face. 

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?” 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.” 

“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound. 

Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint to Remus’ touch. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth. 

“Come, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.” 

The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat. 

“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found underneath your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.” 

The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.” 

“Come here,” you demand again. He wastes no time in obliging you.

He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.

“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you. 

It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all. 

“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?” 

Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.” 

Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway. 

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s alright if not.” 

“You can,” you say, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

The smile fades from Remus’ face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication. 

You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens. 

“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.” 

“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”

You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek.

“A little bit, yeah.”

Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now. 

“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.

“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.” 

His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?” 

Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.” 

“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?” 

You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.” 

“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.” 

“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee. 

You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead. 

“That was really great,” you tell him. 

“I thought so too.” 

“You’ll stay here, right?” 

A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream. 

It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new. 

Remus puts on the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall. 

Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you. 

He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim. 

“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.” 

Mind? Remus can’t even think. 

“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?” 

“Yeah, thanks.”

You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?” 

“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?” 

His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression. 

“Really?” 

A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?” 

“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.” 

“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.” 

Your eyes have widened. Remus expects his face is about five shades pinker than normal. 

“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.” 

There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.” 

They’re his own words, but hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs. 

With his track record this morning, Remus really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face. 

“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?” 

A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.” 

There’s a short silence. “I thought I did, too.” 

It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with him. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time. 

Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again. 

“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is quiet. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.” 

“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.” 

“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”

“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?” 

You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty.

“Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.

“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?” 

You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically.

“Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.” 

Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back. 

You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference. 

You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours? 

He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the creek behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?

He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you. 

So much for opposites attract. 

“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face. 

“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving. 

“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops to a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re better at hiding things than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”

“Remus?” 

Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?” 

“Your pancake…”

He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.” 

“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.” 

Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness. 

“Would you come here?” he asks. 

You comply with an eagerness he wonders how he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make up for it now. 

“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your forehead. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, your chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.” 

You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”

“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?” 

“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.” 

You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles. 

“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.” 

Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor. 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her fed.” 

“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But, I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.” 

Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly. 

“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.” 

“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.” 

Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.” 

[drunk-person]

Training Yard

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: One of Y/n's most common habits is admiring her husband's training every day. On a particularly hot day, the jealousy of the other ladies makes her achieve everything she has been dreaming of for a long time..

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, swords being used inappropriately, jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, no description for reader.

Word cont: 2.800 k

Author's note: Okay, I think those gifs and images with a special focus on Aemond's sword changed the chemistry of my brain, and from that change this one short was born. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

When Y/n was promised to Aemond and traveled with her family to Kings landing to meet him the first time she saw him was at the training camp. He was brandishing a sword and fighting like a demon. The look of concentration on his face, the way he moved fluidly, the sweat that dripped down his forehead, all of it caught Y/n's attention and made her thighs press together in a way she hadn't understood at the time.

Even in her homeland when the marriage was announced, everyone told her that Prince Aemond was a great warrior, but nothing had prepared her for that. It didn't take long for both of them to get married and gradually build their own daily routine. Y/n, just as her husband woke up very early, and they both had breakfast together, soon after Aemond left for the training yard. And Y/n couldn't even say when it became such a recurring habit to watch her husband training every morning. But she could definitely say that it was one of her favorite parts of the day.

Y/n now knew what that pressure between her thighs meant when she saw her husband in the training yard. She knew even better. And even after almost twelve moons of marriage, she still felt the same feeling whenever she saw him. Today in particular the day was particularly hot, as it was the middle of summer, and even though she was wearing a lighter dress Y/n could still feel the sweat running down between her breasts and down her back as she fanned herself with a fan.

She admired her husband's every move downstairs as he fought with Sir Criston, and she couldn't help but bite her lip gently as she watched him grip the hilt of his sword tightly. Y/n could see that Aemond was sweating wearing all those layers of clothes, his silver hair was damp with sweat, and it was to her great surprise that he had an attitude that she would never have expected. He took off his doublet and opened the thin shirt he was wearing underneath, she sighed when he saw the scene, but the contentment soon passed when she noticed that the other ladies of the court were looking at her husband like hungry dogs would look at a piece of meat.

Y/n gritted her teeth angrily as she held tightly to the wooden support of the balcony, as she thought about how lovely it would be to be able to throw one of them from above. And with her eyes sparkling, she barely waited for the fight to end before going down to the courtyard and approaching where Aemond was.

As soon as Aemond disarmed Sir Cole, causing his sword to be thrown a long distance, and placed his own sword against the older man's throat, the audience applauded happily. But no Y/n, she was smarter than doing something so trivial. And with that in mind she pretended to drop the green fan with gold embroidery that she used to fan herself and relieve the heat.

Aemond immediately bent down, picking up the fan from the floor and handing it into her hands, touching her skin in public even if quickly as he placed the fan back between Y/n's hands.

— Thank you very much husband. — She spoke softly, looking at him from beneath her long eyelashes, already opening the fan again, while she gently bit her lip.

—You're welcome wife. — He replied, looking lightly at the drops of sweat that fell down his wife's neckline, when she intelligently guided his gaze there using the fan. —I see that you are also feeling very hot.

—Well, I told you not to go out in such heavy clothes today, if you had listened to me maybe you wouldn't be walking around practically naked in public. — She spoke only for Aemond to hear, curving his eyebrows and wrinkling his nose, while he looked at her with that ironic smile that made her want to jump on him, to kill him or other things.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, my prince, the weather is very hot. — And she turned around, closing the fan and walking away without even looking back, already knowing that it wouldn't be long before he would follow her to the bedroom. Aemond always got a little wild after training, with her teasing him he knew he would want her.

As she passed the court ladies, Y/n made a point of smiling arrogantly before heading inside the fortress. Aemond was her husband, only hers and no one else's. And still with her body tense with jealousy and desire, she entered the dark corridor to get to her own rooms faster. But before she could walk two meters she felt someone covering her mouth with their hand while pulling her firmly around the waist. Y/n screamed muffledly as she struggled, until the soft voice came in her ear.

—Easy, my princess.

Hearing Aemond's voice her whole body instantly relaxed, even as he dragged her into an even darker corner and pinned her firmly against the wall of a cramped alcove.

—What did you think you were doing? — He spoke with an irritated voice against her hair while holding her. — Looking at me like that in public, practice begging me to fuck you.

—Well, maybe I wanted to show some unsuspecting people that Prince Aemond has already been married for almost a year before they jump on you! —Y/n practically growled the words in annoyance, and it became even worse when she felt Aemond laughing against her neck.

—So that's what this is about? —He asked in a mocking voice. — Jealousy.

—I'm not jealous. — She replied grumpily, still pressed against the wall.

—Oh no, you are burning with. — He smiled at the realization.

—You know that my only eye is only for you, wife. — He said kissing her neck from behind. — Just for you.

—You think I don't see the way you look every morning when you watch me train. — He whispered, nibbling on her neck. — That I don't watch the way you bite your lip every time I grip the sword hilt. — He bit her earlobe as he said that while pressing himself against her clothed ass, making her gasp.

And without warning he pulled the strings of her dress violently while Y/n's eyes widened in shock as they were almost in the middle of a hallway. The flowing dress fell at her feet and Y/n felt herself blushing for being practically naked in that place.

—Aemond, what if someone shows up? —She spoke fearfully.

—Should you have thought about that before. —He said, pulling her small clothes down and stripping her completely naked while he trailed wet kisses down her back. Suddenly she felt Aemond turn her around and push her in the other direction, lifting her off the floor and sitting her on a small sideboard, knocking over a vase that was previously on top.

—Aemond! —She reprimanded him, but was interrupted when he pressed his lips to hers while holding her thighs, caressing them and keeping them open. He trailed kisses from her lips to her neck, and from her neck to her soft breasts where he feasted on licking and sucking like he knew Y/n liked. And little by little, the caresses that were on her thighs moved up towards her throbbing core, which panted in anticipation every time Aemond's fingers got closer to where she needed him most.

—Husband… —She whimpered when he rubbed two fingers against her wetness.

—So wet for me. — He said, looking down at her, still paying attention to her breasts.

—I need you inside me. — She begged with a needy voice while Aemond slowly massaged her pearl, and she saw the gleam of malice in his eyes as he shook his head.

—No, you don't deserve to get what you want. —Aemond gently pinched her pearl, making her moan and lightly bite her own hand to muffle the noise. — You were such a negligent wife, leaving in the middle of my training, making me have to drop everything and come to you.

—No, you deserve something else. — He said, pulling her and making her almost scream in surprise as he turned her around and leaned over the small sideboard.

Y/n listened as Aemond unbuckled his belt and raised her eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he would do. But the realization came soon after when she felt something cold against her hot and wet intimacy, panting immediately afterwards.

—I noticed some time ago the way you always look at my sword when you think I'm not looking. — Aemond said while lightly brushing the handle of the sheathed sword against Y/n's intimacy, who pressed her eyes firmly while biting her lips in disbelief that this was really happening.

And without warning he penetrated the first part of the handle into her wet pussy, making her squirm with pleasure and bite her own arm to keep from moaning when she felt the cold metal against her hot skin. Aemond watched ecstatically as the rounded part of the handle was swallowed whole while Y/n moaned and panted with pleasure, he waited a few moments before pushing the rest in and no longer moving it letting her adapt to the size, while he smiled at the sight of his wife squirm, leaking more and more against the handle of the sword.

—Husband… —She begged, looking back with her face wet with tears and her lips red from biting them so much. — Husband, please. —Aemond smiled maliciously, but did not move the sword even an inch. —Aemond, I'm begging you. — She cried rubbing herself against the hilt of the sword.

—Look at you, my dear wife. —He said caressing her moist lips with his finger. —Begging like a real whore.

Y/n immediately nodded, leaning towards him for a kiss, which Aemond didn't have the courage to refuse. And in the middle of the wet and breathless kiss he moved the handle of the sword, thrusting firmly against Y/n's pussy, making her almost scream against his lips while digging her nails into her husband's neck. Aemond smiled against her lips and little by little he picked up speed, in a constant back and forth that made Y/n shiver with pleasure and lose control about one's own body.

She felt like she was going to collapse at any moment, the feeling of the metal filling her making her feel things she had never imagined before. The wet, filthy sound filling the air and the idea of ​​anyone walking by and seeing Aemond doing this to her made her even wetter if that was possible. Heat flooded her entire body and the smell of sweat filled the small alcove at that moment. Y/n did her best to remain silent, but it was almost impossible not to moan her husband's name and beg him to give her more, feeling on the verge of climax.

—Maybe you want them all to listen. — Aemond spoke in a hoarse and low voice close to her ear while sucking her earlobe. —Let them all hear you moan like a little whore while I fuck you with the hilt of my sword.

Y/n couldn't take it anymore, it was like everything inside her broke at once and she came against the hilt of her husband's sword shaking and whimpering as she squirmed and tried to hold on to the small sideboard. Her legs were shaking like jelly and she could barely stand, the feeling of her husband pulling the sword hilt out of her almost made her scream from overstimulation.

Aemond smiled with satisfaction as he pulled the hilt of the sword from inside Y/n, seeing it covered in the white fluids and liquids that came from his wife's pleasure, he never failed to be impressed by the fact that she became even more beautiful destroyed with pleasure. And still smiling, admiring the mess between her legs, he untied the drawstrings of his pants and pulled his own dick out, stroking it a few times and then rubbing it against her moist folds.

Y/n thought she was going to faint from the feeling of being filled again, but now completely. She was so sensitive after her first orgasm that it was as if Aemond was everywhere, and she couldn't help but grind against him for more.

—Always so good and eager for me.— Aemond praised her as he fucked her harder and harder and caressed her hips and breasts. —Such a good and wet cunt.

—You don't need to be jealous, wife, the only one I live for is you, no one else. — He said, sucking her neck and leaving a kiss there while Y/n whimpered and agreed, looking for his lips anxiously.

The two kissed eagerly and Aemond gained even more strength in his thrusts, and when Y/n was on the verge of orgasm again, footsteps sounded in the hallway and Aemond stopped his movements while covering her mouth, signaling for his wife to stay quiet.

Aemond then took advantage of the pause by withdrawing from inside her and turning her to face him and when the steps were far enough away he kissed her again hungrily, and already penetrating her once again with force. Y/n in turn brought her hands to his face, pulling him more and more towards her, wanting to feel every little part of him against her, and she barely noticed when the eye patch fell to the floor, only noticing when they both separated from the kiss. and the shine of the sapphire was present in the dark alcove, making her sigh with contentment at the sight.

—Husband, I want you so much. — She sighed, pulling him into another kiss, feeling closer and closer to the edge with each thrust from Aemond, and feeling him accelerate, she came against his cock, crying and moaning while putting her head in the gap between his neck and shoulder.

—I love you husband, I love you so much. —She whimpered, leaving kisses on his neck, and hearing his wife say those words while feeling her pussy milking him, Aemond came deeply inside her, shuddering and calling his wife's name with his face contorted with pleasure.

Y/n made a point of lifting her head to see the scene before her, in her opinion there was nothing as beautiful in that world as Aemond's face, the only thing that could compare was Aemond's face after the climax.

She caressed his face gently while she felt him massaging her waist with his fingertips still inside her, both still panting, a few moments later Aemond came out of her and lovingly helped her get dressed.

—I'm going to retire to our quarters, husband. —Y/n said visibly tired, and at the same moment Aemond's look changed and he shook his head.

—Oh no you won't.—He said holding her face between his hands firmly looking her in the eyes while speaking in a slightly hoarse voice. — Now you're going to go back there, sit like the obedient and devoted wife you are with my seed running down your legs and watch the rest of the training, knowing that my sword is full of your cunt juice.

—But husband... — She said with wide eyes.

—As I've told you a few times, wife, we must think about the consequences before acting. —He said, replacing his eye patch and fixing his own clothes with a smile.

—If you're lucky, there will only be you up there at that time.

He then fastened the belt with the sword back around his waist and Y/n could see the hilt still glistening with her fluids, and felt her face burn with embarrassment.

—I will never need a tournament favor again as long as I carry this sword. —Aemond said mockingly, looking at her and Y/n rolled her eyes angrily, since her husband didn't even participate in tournaments.

[vivwritesfics]

Grandparents

Jimmy is a frisky little fuck, gets the neighbour cat pregnant. But hey, that's an excuse for the neighbour cats owner to introduce her to the pretty man with the mesmerising blue eyes who also can't wait to become a cat grand parent

1.7K

Beaver had been acting incredibly strange. When her owner acquired her (literally rescued the little cat from a bin - she had been sitting in the apartment dumpster literally chewing a bit of wood, how she got her name), she had never been one to beg for food. 

In the three years she'd owned Beaver, she'd always filled up her bowl in the morning, and then Beaver would sporadically eat from it. She'd never finish the bowl before noon and then yowl for more. 

And Beaver was definitely getting fat. 

Her owner was incredibly worried.

She scheduled an appointment with the vets and then spent maybe two hours trying to coax Beaver into her cat carrier. But the cat was a wild child. If she didn't want to do something, she wasn't going to do it. 

The cat carrier idea was abandoned. "I kinda hate you," her owner muttered with little conviction as she scooped Beaver up into a blanket and left the apartment. 

It was a little awkward, carrying a cat through Monaco like it was a baby. But Beaver was pretty happy to lay in her arms, happier than she would have been in the cat carrier. 

When, at last, they got to the vets, they were the only beings in the waiting room. Thank God, the last thing she needed was a dog freaking Beaver out, or Beaver chasing somebody's pet rodent across the room. 

She couldn't stop her knee from bouncing as they waited to be called. Her eyes couldnt stop drifting across the room, to that ugly, magnified picture of a tick. When they were called (which didn't take too long, maybe everybody else's pets were thriving that day), she carried adjusted her grip on Beaver and carried her into the waiting room. 

Pregnant. Her mangy little street cat who she loved more than anything was pregnant. "Beaver, you hoe," she mumbled as they walked out of the vets office. But then she looked at Beavers swollen belly. She had kittens in there.

Who the hell was the father? Beaver hadn't left her apartment (by choice), so who had gotten her pregnant?

She didn't mean to gasp as loudly as she did. In the hall of the apartment complex, she stopped walking to look at Beaver, her eyes wide. "It's the neighbours cat, isn't it?" She asked, but Beaver didn't confirm or deny. 

But it madde sense, didn't it? The neighbours cat had a habit of breaking into her balcony to check Beaver out. It wouldn't be a surprise if he and Beaver got busy while she was at work. 

"Well," she said to Beaver as she unlocked the apartment door, "at least you've got taste." 

Yeah, the neighbours cat was pretty beautiful. A Bengal, if she knew her cat breeds (which, she barely did). And his owner wasn't bad to look at either. 

The owner that she should probably inform of what was going on. 

She placed Beaver down on the sofa, and she climbed out of the blanket. "Okay, Bea," she said, holding out her hand (so that Beaver could push her head against it). "I'm gonna go and tell your baby daddy's dad what's going on. You stay here and... try not to let any more boy cats in." 

Beaver ignored her and made her way to the bedroom. 

Standing up straight, she brushed the loose cat hairs from her jacket. She grabbed her keys from the side and made her way out of the apartment, to the one just above her own. 

As she waited outside of her cats baby daddy's owners apartment, she could hear an incredible amount of commotion from inside. Well, I say commotion, but it was one single voice, sometimes shouting. She raised her knuckles to the door and knocked. 

The shouting stopped. Their was a pause, so long that she thought he wouldn't answer, before he pulled open the door. 

Eyes so pretty she got lost in them, and quite literally forgot what she was going to say. She'd never properly met her neighbour before, just seen him when walking through the building. Her mind blanked as she continued to stare into those pretty blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Her neighbour prompted, and she shook herself out of whatever trance he had her under. Witchcraft, I tell you. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to bother you but I live in the apartment beneath you with my cat, Beaver, and I think your cat might have gotten mine pregnant."

His face dropped, and then a smile split across it. "Really?" He asked, and she nodded. "Jimmy is going to be a dad?”

"If Jimmy is the pretty little Bengal that Beaver is obsessed with, then yeah, Jimmy is gonna be a dad," she answered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was reaching into his apartment and grabbing a set of keys. "Can I come meet the momma?" He asked, his voice so excited. How could she say no to that?

On the short journey form his apartment to her own, they introduced themselves. Max was Jimmy's dad, and he was a car mechanic (okay this girl clearly didn't know who Max was, and he didn't want to come out with the whole F1 driver thing. So he took a leaf out of Daniels book and called himself a car mechanic).

(She thought it was a little weird, how did a car mechanic afford a luxury apartment in Monaco? Maybe he was a car mechanic to the stars or something).

"Why is she called Beaver?" Asked Max as she pushed her key into the lock on her apartment door.

She didn't judge him for asking, it was an incredibly strange name for a cat. "Well, when I found her she was chewing this bit of wood and she looked sort of like a mangy little beaver. Turns out she was just a mangy little cat," she said and let Max in.

They might have been in the same building, but her apartment was much smaller than his own. A lot more full, too. Where Max had little else beside his set up in his living room, she had so much stuff. A fluffy colourful rug, a sofa big enough for a whole group of people, a cabinet full of DVDs.

"The little miss is probably in my bedroom," she muttered as she kicked off her shoes. "I'll go and get her."

Max kicked off his own shoes. He took a moment to look around properly, careful not to invade her privacy.

She emerged just a few moments later from a little way down the hall, a little black and white cat in her arms. "This is Beaver," she said, holding the purring kitten towards him.

"Hi Beaver," said Max as he took her from her hands. "I'm Max, Jimmy's dad. You're gonna make me the happiest cat grandpa out there."

Beaver pushed her head against Max's, still purring. "She likes you," said her owner as she sat on the couch.

"They're gonna have the prettiest babies," Max said as he sat beside her, Beaver happily sitting in his lap. As carefully as he could, Max fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to her. "Give me your number, just in case you guys need anything."

But it wasn't just in case they needed anything. After Max went back to his apartment, they texted almost constantly. It started off being about the cats, but then it went further (I say further, but it was just them sending each other memes, giggling from behind their phone screens as they laid in their respective beds).

Max invited her out for dinner maybe a week before the kittens were born. It wasn't anything fancy; he was just craving something unhealthy and he wanted some company.

And then the kittens were born. As Beaver hid herself away in her closet, she pressed her phone to her ear. "C'mon Max, pick the fuck up" she whispered as she sat on her bed.

She was panicking, admittedly. But who could blame her? Her cat was about to give birth!

Max finally picked up his phone. "Hey, I'm at the pet store. What sort of bed should we get for momma and babies?" He asked, sounding all too relaxed.

"Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here!" She cried. "The babies are coming!"

Max ran out of the pet store. He'd never moved so quick in his life (not with his own two legs, at least). In ten minutes flat he was outside of her apartment door, knocking insistently.

Max was just as stressed as she was. But, upon seeing the look on her face, Max let the stress drop. "She'll be okay," he said, pulling her close for just a moment. For a moment was all they had; they had to get to Beaver.

He took charge, sitting her on the bed with a glass of water. The two of them waited while Beaver gave birth. There wasn't much more they could do. Once the kittens were born, Max brought in towels and blankets. He kept a nice distance to her while he set up a lovely warm bed for her and the kittens.

"They're beautiful," he said, not daring to pick them up. "Should we bring Jimmy down here to meet them?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Let momma and babies rest," she said, laying her head on Max's shoulder.

He squeezed her. "We're gonna be the best cat grandparents," he said. When she held up her hand, Max gave her a high five.

"Can the grandpa take the grandma out for dinner? Is that something a new cat grandparent would enjoy?" He asked, looking down at her with her head still on his shoulder.

She hadn't yet taken her eyes away from the kitten. "Real dinner? Or you just want company?"

"Real dinner, date dinner."

"Love it."

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

Home.

Jinx x reader

Summary: set between Act 1 and 2 of Arcane season 2. You find a moment of calm at home with Jinx, Isha, and a stray dog you've found along the way.

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane season 1, tooth-rotting fluff (I hope) not proofread

No use of Y/N, no pronouns used for reader, no gender specific terms etc...

A/N: WHOO first piece of writing by Lev on this blog yippee!! I sincerely hope you all enjoy this lolsies. Please interact! I'm taking requests teehee

You don’t remember the last time you felt this at peace. 

It is like a buzzing, filling your chest, lifting you practically off your feet as you make my way home. 

This feeling is manufactured- it is not coming from the outside. It comes from deep inside your chest, thrumming happily, snuggled between your lungs, right below your heart. There are reasons for this warmth, this light- well, one reason. Her name is Jinx. 

When you say you’re going home, all you really think of is her. Yes, her lair is home- it is warm, and cozy, and as safe as a hot air balloon suspended above what seems to be an infinite void can be- but without her, it would be nothing. 

She is the light that fills your chest, with her bright smile and ridiculously long blue hair and perfect pink eyes. She is the weight on your lungs, making it hard to breathe when you think of her. She’s all the cheesy, corny shit the romance authors you hated so as a child wrote. Only instead of being a character, only words on a worn out page, she’s real, and she’s only a two minute walk away from where you are now. 

You have a satchel slung over your shoulder, the Dog (you don’t know when it became your dog; it just appeared by your side one day, and hasn’t left since) trotting along beside you. Its fur is matted. You reach down and scratch between its ears as you near the Last Drop, smiling to yourself. Never had you thought you would be living this life- on your way home, supplies for Jinx in your bag, the Dog padding alongside you- it is so domestic, so soft, so clean (despite the grime of the Fissures, the thickness of the air, the moaning of the people crowding the sides of the streets). This life is so unlike anything you remember your parents having. 

You take the quick route into Jinx’s lair, the dog following happily, its pink tongue lolling. You should name it, you think as you step onto one of the propellers. 

After Silco had died, you had expected the place to fall into disrepair; you had thought the lights would stop twinkling, and the tinny music would stop playing, and the workstations would gather dust until finally the propellers snapped and fell, taking Jinx with them. And yes, that had started to happen. But then, Jinx had met the kid. Isha, you had called her. All of you, huddled around an old, matted baby names book one of you had found at a scrapyard, pointing out names to each other. Isha, the kid had pointed at, a huge, toothy grin splitting her round face. One who protects. You had closed the book then, knowing that it was perfect. Jinx had smiled at you over the newly baptized Isha’s head, and you had smiled right back, squeezing her hand in yours. You had tossed the book down, into the void below. 

Now, your home was transformed. Jinx’s creepy dolls were gone, replaced with different colourful toys and gadgets picked out or made by Isha. The walls were covered in crayon drawings of all kinds of things- dragons, flowers, the three of you in fields of green and blue and pink and orange. There was a tent set up in the corner, full of Isha’s belongings. It was where you all slept, huddled together like a litter of cats. You love the place. 

At first, you think they’re both out. You call out, and when no answer comes, you venture further in, dropping your bag by Jinx’s workbench. The Dog sniffs around, its tail wagging as it comes closer and closer to an odd lump covered in blankets. You grin to yourself, putting a hand on your hip, tapping your chin with the knuckles of the other. “Hmm,” you muse to yourself, purposefully ignoring the giggle coming from the blankets, “wowie, I wonder where Isha and Jinx could possibly be.” You go in the opposite direction, checking under the workbench, scratching your head. The Dog watches, its eyes saying Can’t you see them? They’re right here! You wink at it, and it sits, tilting its head. “They must have gone out,” you declare loudly as the giggles intensify. “Guess I have this whole place to myself! Finally, I am rid of those stinky-“ 

As you are talking, you approach the mess of blankets. Before you are able to finish that last sentence, a small orange and blue bundle barrels into your legs, almost knocking you flat on your back. Isha launches herself into your arms, grinning her toothy grin as you spin her around. 

“Oh my goodness!” You cry, “where were you hiding? You really are a master sleuth!” Jinx, still have tangled in the blankets, barks a laugh. You hug Isha to your chest and raise an eyebrow at her, mouthing you couldn’t hide anywhere better? She flips you off, but she is smiling. 

She stands and joins you and Isha, her hand finding the small of your back, the other going to Isha’s shoulder. 

“I have a surprise,” you whisper to the child, “but don’t tell Jinx, mmkay?” 

Jinx tilts her head, still smiling. Isha nods solemnly. 

“I found waffles,” you breathe, looking at Jinx out of the corner of your eye. Isha gasps and puts her hands over her mouth. Through trial and error, you and Jinx had discovered that the little one seemed to live for waffles. You now went out of your way, as the only one with your face not plastered all over the place, to find the sweet treat. 

“Gee, I wonder what the surprise could be,” Jinx says, playing along. She follows as you carry Isha to your bag. You set the kid down, the Dog nuzzling into her hand. You rifle around for a moment, and finally pull out the waffles. Jinx lets out a loud gasp, and Isha turns to her, delighted, pleased with herself that she was able to keep this secret. 

“Waffles?” Jinx cries. Isha claps her hands together, startling the Dog. 

You all sit together in the tent, sharing the waffles off the same plate. Isha (who thinks she’s being slick) keeps sneaking pieces of her food to the Dog, who delightedly licks it off her hand. She giggles every time, earning an affectionate look from you and Jinx. 

Once you have finished the waffles, you push the plate away and lie down. Soon, Isha curls into a ball in the space between your knees and your stomach, settling her head on your legs. Jinx dims the lights, then joins you; the two of you become a protective cocoon around the now snoring Isha. The Dog squishes itself in between you and Isha, resting its head on the kid’s side and looking up at you adoringly. You brush a strand of hair from Jinx’s face and smile. She smiles right back. She’s been smiling so much recently. 

“This is perfect,” you whisper to her once you’re sure Isha is fast asleep. 

She smiles, but doesn’t answer. One of her hands rests on your waist, and her fingers trace soothing patterns there. 

“I thought,” she begins, then stops, frowning. Her other fingers tighten around your hand. “I thought that, with Silco gone, there was nothing left for me.” Her words hurt you; it stings somewhere deep in your stomach to hear that she is in any kind of pain. 

“But then… I met the kid,” she continues. “And then I found you.” 

You feel an overwhelming wave of affection for the girl lying in front of you then. A girl you had once known what feels like a very long time ago; a girl who had once had blue eyes and the same wide, toothy smile as Isha. A girl who had been part of your distant past, who was now back in your life. She was right; despite having known each other your whole lives, you have really only just found each other. 

“And- and I realised that maybe, maybe Silco wasn’t all I needed. Maybe…” she trails off, but she has said enough. You shuffle forwards (careful not to disturb Isha or the dog) so that your forehead is only centimetres from hers. She meets you halfway, pressing her forehead to yours; your noses brush, and you smile, reaching up to cup her face. 

“I love you, Blue,” you whisper. A name, who she has always been to you. Blue. Blue like the sky, like the sea. Blue like the warm, the fluttering bird nestled in your chest. 

For a moment, you think she is going to cry. But she only pulls you closer, and whispers the same words back to you, your name uttered like a prayer. 

You close your eyes and smile, and her breathing slows. 

As you fall asleep, you think: 

You have never felt this at peace before. 

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[luvfy0dor]

Bites or Hickeys? Various x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; suggestive, obv biting, hickeys, perhaps ooc,

Fandoms; Bungo Stray Dogs, Death Note, Attack on Titan, Obey Me

A/n; ogs remember when I was purple, but anyways happy 1 year of writing to me!! I'm super proud of my account and I'm so insanely thankful for all the love I've received and acquaintances/friends I've made. Thank you guys so much <3 even tho there have been times where I really thought I'd quit, I kept going and I'm so grateful I did

Bites ★

The feeling of their teeth sinking into your skin makes them feel almost electric, as if a spark has been lit inside their chest and cause an explosion of carnal desire. Some are softer with it, kissing and licking over the imprints of their teeth to soothe the mild pain it might have caused, but others just bite and move on to the next unoccupied spot. They can't help how desperate they are for you and to prove to themselves that they have you, and their affectionate gestures prove that theyre yours. After all, they'd never do the same for anyone else. Ofcourse after the heat of the moment died down, whether they were gentler or rougher earlier, they'd kiss over the indents and whisper soft praises and murmurs about whatever came to mind. Moments like those were their favorites- second to the actual rendezvous, ofcourse.

• RANPO, Dazai, Akutagwa, Kaji, Twain, Sasha, Zeke, Pieck, MELLO, Belphie, Satan, Leviathan

Hickeys ★

They prefer giving hickeys, sometimes because they think it's classier than biting, and others because they don't want to hurt you by biting too hard. They will, however, make you look just as ravaged, littering your pretty skin with dark, organically shaped marks. Their hands pin your wrists above your head while they suck and lick at your neck, humming as if they were enjoying a meal made by a world-class chef. Their eyes would flicker up to meet yours every now and again, lips curling upwards as they shove one of their knees between yours, allowing you to grind against their thigh while they make quick work of undoing your top and belt. They're far more shameless when they're leaving them along your thighs, so shameless that you almost look like you were bruised- no one was going to see them anyways, so why should they be modest? They'd be lying if they said being able to claim you in such a way didnt turn them on. ♡⁠˖

• fyodor, Sigma, Kunikida, Ango, Mori, Fitzgerald, Fukuzawa, Margaret, Poe, Erwin, Mikasa, Reiner, Historia, Lucifer

Both! ★

They simply can't choose, whether adorning your neck and thighs in dark, dotted half-moons or burgundy splotches, they can't get enough of you. They usually leave them in concealed places, but sometimes it's so difficult to not mark you up all over, especially when you're writhing underneath them and clinging to them like a vice because their lips and mouth just feel that good. You'd intertwines your fingers in their hair, pulling them closer or tugging them away when you're lying breathlessly in the wrinkled and messy sheets. They'd ask you if it's too much, rubbing circles into the sides of your hips with a wide, cheeky grin. God, you looked so good underneath them, all bashful and shy with your eyes half lidded and your lips slightly agape. Your labored breaths and quiet sighs were like music to their ears, so really, how could they choose just one when they could give you both and double the fun? ♡⁠˖

• NIKOLAI, Chuuya, yosano, bram, Oda, Atsushi, Lucy, Mushitaro, Tecchou, Tachihara, Eren, jean, Connie, Armin, Hange, maybeee levi, Ymir, Matt, Matsuda, Misa, im torn between both and neither for L, Mammon, Asmo, Beel

Neither ★

They prefer not to leave a physical mark on you, but rather give you a good time to remember them by. A mark will fade quicker than a memory. ♡⁠˖

• Nathaniel Hawthorne, Light, Jouno

A/n: hey chat I didn't realize today was my anniversary so I kinda speedran the characters, it might not be SUIUUPER in character so I'm sorry 😞

[crashandlivewrites]

Hear the Dogs Howling

Dedicated to the lovely @soapsgf for allowing me to ramble and bounce ideas off as I wrote this, along with being so sweet and helping me grow my confidence. This is for you.

Pairing: Dom!Ghost x fem!switch!reader x switch!Soap

Summary: Soap doesn't know how to stay quiet during sex. Tonight is no different. When you finally knock on his door to get him to tone it down, you walk in on a scene you weren't entirely expecting to see.

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, MMF threesome, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving vaginal; m receiving anal), anal sex (m receiving), mild dubcon as Soap is initially choking on cock but he's into it, minor pet play (Soap is referred to as pup)

Read on Ao3

Soap was a noisy neighbour. There was no other way to put it. You’d been rooming next to him for a good while now ever since you were placed on the task force, and he always found a way to disturb your peace. Whether it was the sound of his music, or telly being up too loud, or his booming laughter as he chatted on the phone, or his or his partner’s noises of pleasure as he fucked them into the squeaky bed the base provided. 

Sure, you might have been jealous, picturing him above you, behind you, beneath you instead of them. Yes, you may have also touched yourself listening to his moans, wishing he was making those sounds for you, but you thought better of actually doing something about it. Pushed those feelings deep, deep down. Ruining the team dynamic, especially when you were the newest member put you more at risk than the others of transfer, or worse, discharge.

Shaking your head, you broke out of your chain of thoughts, biting your lip as you tried to focus on the report before you. Price wanted it by tomorrow. Demanded it by tomorrow. Cursing, you rested your forehead on your palms, trying to keep yourself awake as the half-empty cup of coffee remained stagnant next to you. Two pages left. That’s all you had to get through. 

And then you heard it. A muffled moan from next door. Fucking Soap and his inability to keep it in his pants for more than a few days. 

Clenching your teeth, you snapped your head over your shoulder, glaring at the wall as if you could curse him into silence. But, knowing Soap, this was only the beginning. The man knew how to fuck, and had the stamina to keep on going, meaning if you didn’t put a pin in this now, you were going to be listening to the sounds of your teammate fucking for the next few hours. 

Sitting in your chair, you debated for a few minutes, wondering if it really was something you wanted to walk in on, or interrupt at the very least. Tapping your foot and the pen in your hand in a steady rhythm, you tried to focus on the report before you, but after another five minutes of staring into empty space and the sounds from next door filling your head, you caved. Pushing the chair back, you marched over to your adjoining wall, banging on it harshly. 

“Keep it down, Soap! I have shit to do for Price.” 

You thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t. As though he was intentionally trying to spite you, the noises got progressively louder, more frequent. You’d slammed on the wall more times than you’d care to admit before you finally snapped. 

Slamming your door open, you march over to Soap’s room and bang your fist against his. But instead of it being solid, the door gave way, swinging open to reveal a scene you’d never thought you’d walk in on. Instead of Soap being on top of a pretty girl, he was on his knees, stark naked with his lips stretched wide around a thick cock that was being shoved down his throat. And not just any cock. Ghost’s cock. Your mouth sagged open slightly as your eyes flicked over the pair of them, taking in Soap’s bare form and comparing it to Ghost’s fully clothed one. 

Making a small noise of protest, Soap shuffled his weight on his knees and went to pull back, but Ghost was quicker, gloved hand reaching down to grip Soap’s mohawk firmly, keeping him pressed into his crotch.

“Ah! Did I say you could move, pup?” Ghost’s voice was stern and deep, stirring something deep inside you. In reply, Soap whined, blinking up at the larger man. It was only then that you noticed tears streaming down his face. Your breath hitched as you finally turned your gaze towards Ghost who was staring directly at you. 

His dark eyes were sharp and calculated, locking you in place as you stood stock still in the doorway. It was like your shoes were rooted to the spot and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the erotic scene even if you tried. 

“You just gonna stand there and gape at the slut?” Ghost cocked his head to the side, his eyes squinting in amusement. “Or are you gonna make yourself useful, Sergeant?”

The resolve in you crumbled. If Ghost and Soap could fuck with seemingly little consequence, surely you were fine to join as well. Feeling the heat bubble inside you, and your heart thump in your chest, you knew there was only one correct answer moving forward.

Swallowing thickly, you shut the door behind you. 

Despite the balaclava covering his face, you could see the interest spark in Ghost’s eyes at your actions. His eyes crinkled as he looked down at Soap, who whined pitifully, drool leaking out the sides of his mouth as he held position. 

“Seems like you’ve got another playmate, pup.” Ghost rumbled, carding his fingers through Soap’s hair gently as you walked forward, steps muffled by your socks on the wood floor. “You gonna put on a show for our guest?” 

Soap moaned, wet lashes fluttering as glanced between you and Ghost before beginning to bob his head in a slow rhythm along Ghost’s cock. The masked man let out a sharp hiss, fingers gripping Soap’s hair roughly as he grunted in pleasure. You stood there, less than a metre away from the pair, watching, feeling the heat of arousal spread through your body, accumulating between your thighs. Your mind raced, wondering how exactly you were going to fit into this scenario, but that question was answered when Soap reached a hand up towards you, stretching out his fingers. 

You kneel down next to him, lacing your fingers through his as his mouth continues to work. Soap’s own cock was rock hard, twitching slightly between his parted legs as the tip drooled pre-cum, pooling on the floor beneath him. He squeezes your hand in thanks and moans prettily, glancing towards you through the corners of his eyes and you grin, leaning in to purr into his ear. 

“You’re doing such a good job, pup. Putting on such a good show for me, aren’t you?” Despite the Ghost bullying his heavy cock down Soap’s throat, he whined at your words, opening his mouth even wider to accomodate the thickness. You cooed at him encouragingly, your other hand tracing circles on his back as Ghost groaned. 

Thrusting his hips forwards, he bumped his dick into the back of Soap’s throat causing him to gag. You could see the bulge of his cock every time he bucked his hips forwards, yet Soap swallowed eagerly, one hand laced in yours and the other resting on his thigh, twitching with every bounce of his cock. 

It was now your turn to stare up at Ghost from your position on the floor and you almost wished you hadn’t. He was a sight. Large and imposing as he stood over the pair of you, eyes darkened with lust as he stared. Your mouth went dry as his mere gaze sent another rush of desire through you, shivers running up your spine as you squeezed your legs together, trying to stave off the lust. He reaches a gloved hand down to cup your cheek, then your neck, tipping your chin up to hold your attention. 

“Can I touch him?” You breathed, voice barely audible over the excited yet muffled noises Soap was making at your words. 

“Good pups don’t touch themselves.” Ghost answered, brow raising. “He can cum from just sucking me. Sure you don’t wanna see that?” 

You had to admit, watching Soap cum without any direct stimulation would be enticing, but you couldn’t wait. You needed to touch him. After months of hearing him fuck, and presumably be fucked, you were finally getting to live out your deepest desire. You shake your head, keeping your eyes fixed on Ghost.

“Not right now. Wanna stroke his cock and watch him lose his mind as he gets you off.” Ghost simply cocked his head to the side before turning his attention back to Soap, but it was Soap who reacted viscerally. His hips stuttered; cock bobbed between his legs as he began to tremble. You felt a sly grin flash over your face. 

“Look at you… so excited to be touched? Is that it?” Releasing his hand, you move your own to stroke his thigh, running your hand along the inside, feeling his muscles twitch beneath his skin. “Such a good pup, aren’t you.” He nodded as best he could with a cock down his throat. 

Reaching down between his legs, you swipe a finger through the small pool of pre-cum on the floor and move to circle the head of his cock with your fingertip. He whined, hips canting forward to seek more stimulation, which you granted. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you began to stroke him with a light grip, in time with the bobbing of his head. Soap shivered, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your hand touch, and he built up a steady rhythm, causing your hand to move quicker. He moaned, eagerly swallowing down Ghost’s dick to the base, causing him to hiss, gloved fingers tugging at Soap’s mohawk. 

“Good fucking pup. Look at you. Swallowing me so well. Makin’ a fuckin’ mess as you do.” Ghost’s dark eyes flicked over to you, before reaching over and cupping your cheek. Breath hitching, you raised your head up to look as him as your hand continued to work over Soap’s slick cock. 

“You’re bein’ such a good girl too. Takin’ care of my pup. Makin’ sure he doesn’t get too antsy. Can be a right pain in my ass sometimes.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as you ducked your head, glancing away from him and back to Soap who was pumping his hips forward, desperate for the pace to increase. His eyes flick to yours pleadingly and his hips moved, brows pinched together as he made a muffled noise of impatience. 

“Stop touching him.” Ghost growled his command as he yanked Soap’s head back as you pulled your hand back quickly. Letting out a multitude of protests, Soap’s brows furrowed as he glared up at Ghost. 

“The fuck did ah dae?” His tone was petulant, accent thick as he coughed, heaving air into his lungs. 

“Bein’ fuckin’ impatient, pup.” Ghost leaned down, leering at Soap who squirmed under the stern gaze. “We have someone nice enough to come in and touch that needy cock of yours, and you’re actin’ like a brat. Rein it in, or I’m gonna fuck your face like a slag I’m payin’ and leave you hard and leaking.” 

Soap kept his head low, but you could see the pout evident on his face. His eyes remained cast down as he nodded in response to Ghost’s words before reaching back up to fill his mouth. A strong hand pressed to his shoulder, stopping him going any further. 

“Open your mouth and use it for fuckin’ words like your s’posed to.” Soap glowered, huffing before he turned his head towards you. 

“Sorry fer bein’ impatient. Ye can touch me how ye want.” You smiled at him for a moment, before Ghost’s fingers tapped on your cheek, turning your attention to him. 

“Keep him in line, or after I’m through with him, I’ll show you how to properly keep a pup in line.” His soft, yet deep voice sent shivers down your spine, and you felt wetness pool in your panties, sticking to you.

“Yes sir.” Ghost let out a barely audible breath at your submission as his thumb stroked along your cheek bone. 

“Keep that up and maybe I’ll fuck you too sweet thing.” Your mouth parted as your head tilted back, angling slightly as Ghost stooped lower, as though he was about to kiss you through the mask before he pulled back. Wrapping a hand around the base of his thick cock, he fed it into Soap’s open and willing mouth, cupping the back of his head before thrusting deep. Soap gagged at the sudden intrusion but kept the dick deep in his throat as he swallowed around it. 

Spitting on your hand, you wrapped it back around Soap’s cock, mixing between long, languid strokes down his full length and quick, sharp ones over his dripping head. Soap trembled at the changes, body shaking slightly as he remained still for you. Cooing into his ear, the pace of your hand increased slightly. 

“Look at you, pup. Sitting so pretty for me now, aren’t you. Bet you look real sweet when you cum too.” Soap moaned out an affirmative, one of his hands cupping the back of Ghost’s muscled thigh as his other reached for your leg, resting high up near the apex of your thighs, but refusing to lift any higher until he was told so. You grinned at his good behaviour. 

“Yeah? You wanna cum for me? Wanna be a good boy and spill all over my hand?” Soap moaned again, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he continued to suck off his teammate, messy and sloppy as drool dripped down his chin. 

“Oh, fuck yeah, love. Make him moan like that again.” Ghost grunted; eyes closed as he continued to shallowly thrust. Not wanting to displease either man, you tightened your grip and swept your thumb along the ridges of Soap’s cock head, teasing his frenulum as you went. Letting out a keening sound, Soap’s dick twitched in your grip as his hips bucked into your hand, the grip on your thigh tightening.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Leaning forward, you whispered into Soap’s ear, before mouthing kisses down the line of his neck to his back as your other hand cupped his ass. “Come on, pup. Do it. Do it for me.” 

The cock in his throat meant the moan came out garbled, but his hips jerked forward erratically as he reached his climax. With every heavy twitch of his cock in your hand, a thick pulse of cum shot out, adding to the mess already on the floor. 

“Fuckin’ hell pup.” Ghost growled, both hands now gripping at Soap’s hair as the pace of his hips picked up, shallowly thrusting into Soap’s mouth as he moaned, eyes still rolling from his climax as Ghost used his teeth to take his right glove off before pulling out and stroking his cock roughly, releasing his load over Soap’s face, grunting as his whole body shivered, breath coming out in short pants. 

Once he’d finished, Ghost tucked his cock back into his pants, before pulling the chair up from Soap’s desk and sitting down. Unsure of what to do next, you glanced over at him, brows furrowed slightly as you waited for direction. Noticing, Ghost cocked his head to the side, before his eyes squinted appraisingly. 

“Soap could learn a thing or two from you, love. So well behaved, you are.” You went to face him, but he held up a hand, stopping you from moving any further. “The pup’s quite messy there. Why don’t you give him a hand cleaning all that up?” 

Eyes widening, to glanced over to Soap, who was dragging a finger through the mess of cum on his face and holding it out to you. 

“C’mon, bonnie thing. Show how good ye can be fer him. Fer us.” Soap’s eyes darkened as he stared at you expectantly and suddenly, you realised precisely how fucked you were. 

Your eyes followed his hand as he held it out towards you, Ghost’s cum dripping down his finger enticingly. Without further thought, you leaned forward on your knees, lips closing around the outstretched digit. Soap’s eyes widened slightly as he glanced over at Ghost, his mouth dropping open slightly as you licked and sucked his finger clean of cum. Pulling back, you swiped your thumb over his cheekbone, and then, keeping your eyes fixed to Soap’s, you sucked your own thumb clean as well. 

“Fucking Christ, hen.” His tone was breathy, his hands reaching out to push you down onto your ass on the cold floor. Your hands flew out behind you to break your fall as he nudged his way between your legs, pressing into your space with an intense need. “S’fuckin bonnie fer me. Been listening to me fer months, haven’t ye?” He whispered into your ear as his hands groped greedily at your body. 

“Gonna make ye feel s’good, I promise.” You were barely able to process his words as he tugged at your shirt, shucking it up and tugging your bra down to expose your breasts so he could latch onto one with his teeth, moaning as he did so. Letting out a sharp gasp of pain, you smacked his shoulder, eyes staring down at him accusingly. Soap released your breast and pouted. 

“Ye’ve got such bonnie tits, hen. Couldnae help maself.” His mouth spread wide in a toothy grin as he reached out to cup the breast he bit, squeezing it apologetically as his eyes traced over the marks his teeth left. “Wanted ye fer months. Thought ye wouldnae have me.” 

“I wanted you.” You breathed; eyes wide with surprise at his confession. “Always did. Thought it ruin things. Thought that it wouldn’t be professional.” Even in your ears, the words were a weak excuse. Soap’s grin spread even wider. 

“Touch yerself at the sound of me, aye?” His hands roamed your body, roughly groping at every piece of bare skin he could access. He lowered his mouth to your tits once more, sucking the nipple tenderly this time, tongue laving over the swell of your breast as he moaned. “Was extra loud fer ye too. Hopin’ ye’d break that door down sooner. Didnae take ye as the patient type.” 

“Shut up.” You hissed, arching your back as his hand reached for your other nipple, tweaking it between his fingers. Lifting a hand up, you carded it through his hair, tugging at the strands lightly, his mouth still firmly attached to your breast, sucking dark, claiming marks into your skin. 

“Tug it harder, love.” Came a rumbling voice from behind you. Breath hitching in surprise, you glanced up, remembering Ghost was still in the room watching the two of you intently. One hand sat at the seat of his pants, rubbing softly and you couldn’t help but moan at the sight. Blinking once more, you turned your attention back to Soap and, heeding Ghost’s instructions, tugged at the mohawk a little firmer. Soap let out a soft sigh, his eyes fluttering slightly, but it wasn’t enough to break his attack your chest. 

Closing your hand over his hair tighter, you pulled roughly, harder than you’d meant to, but you were rewarded with a strangled moan as you wrenched Soap back from your chest. His eyes were glassy as his hips canted forwards. Ghost mumbled his praise at the action, and you felt a stir in your chest. 

“That’s nae fair, bonnie.” Soap growled. “Ye’ve had ye fun teasin’ me.” His brows furrowed as he pulled back, making you lose your grip on his hair. Moving quickly, he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand as the other reached for the buttons of your pants. 

“Gonna show ye what I dae tae wee sluts who play dirty.” His eyes were wild as bore down on you, nose brushing against yours. You could feel the heat of his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Gonna tease ye till yer gaggin fer ma cock.”

Before he could make another move though, a sharp whistle sounded, and you both snapped your heads up in Ghost’s direction. He was lounging back on the chair, head tilted and resting on one first as the other cupped his bulge. His eyes narrowed towards Soap. 

“Thought I trained you better than that, pup. Manners.” The tone was stern, unwavering and was met with a soft whine from Soap. “Take her pants off and finger her pussy. If you make her come, you’ll get a reward.”

As though the instructions sparked something in Soap, his rough hands turned soft as he began to caress your body, slowly sliding up your sides to remove your shirt and bra properly. He cooed; eyes soft as they roamed appreciatively over your body. He dragged his hands down your torso, trailing down to the waistband of your pants. His breath was coming out in heaving pants as his fingers made quick work of the buttons, pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go. 

“Steamin’ Jesus hen.” Soap groaned, throwing the clothes to the side so he could return his hands to your body, sliding over your ass and up your legs before spreading them apart, eyes focused on your soaked cunt. The heat and desire in his eyes alone made your cunt pulse. “Jus’ wanna sink ma teeth into ye.” 

“Play nice, pup. Don’t wanna break your chew toy too early.” Ghost muses from his spot. Your eyes meet his and suddenly, you realise just how exposed you were. Soap may have also been naked, but the way Ghost’s eyes were roaming over your bare body and grinding against his palm made your face heat. 

“Cannae help maself, Lt.” Soap leaned down, mouth trailing kisses along your thigh, working his way down towards the apex of them. His teeth dragged over the sensitive skin, leaving red marks, but not hard enough to break skin. You felt your body jerk as his warmth breath fanned over your leaking cunt and you whine pitifully. 

“Please… Soap. Need it. Need you.” Your hands pushed through his hair, gripping tightly as you tried to angle his face towards your wetness. Groaning at your impatience, he lowered his mouth, flat tongue dragging a line from your hole to clit. Letting out a shuddering gasp, you arched your back, fingers tugging at his mohawk to hold him close. But that didn’t last long. 

The chair creaked as Ghost pushed himself up, boots heavy as he marched over and wrenched Soap’s head up unkindly, causing him to cry out. “I said, finger her pussy, not eat it, impatient slag.” He spat in Soap’s ear, voice low and harsh. You whined at the loss, bucking your hips up to chase his mouth, but Ghost’s hand pushed you back down. “Look at you both. Such greedy fucking whores. You take what I tell you to.” 

Your brows pinched as you stared up at Ghost. 

“Please Ghost… please I need it. Need his mouth on me.” Reaching out, you clasped your hand over one of his thick forearms, squeezing as your eyes pleaded up to him. Ghost sighs, bringing one hand up to sweep the hair from your face as he leans in to whisper into your ear, other hand still firmly gripping Soap’s hair, causing him to huff petulantly as he was dragged away. 

“The pup’s gotta learn to listen, love. I’m not punishing you, yet anyway. If you’re good, and you cum on Johnny’s fingers, he can eat you out. Got it?” He leaned back slightly, eyes soft as he waited expectantly for your reply. Nodding in response, you went to look down at Soap again, but Ghost’s rough hand in your hair stopped you. “No. Words, love. If I ask you a question, you answer it with words.” 

“Yes, I got it.” You breathed; eyes glassy as you stared up at him. “I’ve got it sir. I’m sorry.” Ghost let out a gentle sigh, hand releasing your hair as he stroked your chin tenderly.

“There’s a good girl f’me.” His gaze then hardens as he turns to face Soap. “Remember the rules, pup. You listen to me. Now finger her wet cunt until she cums or you won’t be getting your dick wet.” Soap’s nose crinkled slightly; brows furrowed as he stared at Ghost. 

“That’s nae fair, Lt. The lass was leakin’. Pure gaggin’ fer it.” His hands run gentle lines on your inner thighs as he spoke, and you felt the anticipation rising. 

“Then make sure to use those fingers to make it good for her and she’ll get it. You always yabber on about how good you are at pleasing pussy. Show me, then.” Ghost cocks his head expectantly and you felt like nothing but a toy for Soap to play with in that instant, and boy if that didn’t send a fresh wave of arousal down your spine. 

“I’m better with ma mouth than ma fingers.” He sulked, pouting up at his superior. 

“Then you’d better learn quick, Johnny.” Despite the mask, you could hear the grin, see his eyes crinkling as he waved his hand towards your cunt. “Go on, pup. She got you off with her hand. Return the favour.” 

Mumbling incoherently, Soap trailed his fingers towards your wet cunt, eyes flicking up to meet yours and smirking slightly. Dragging the tips of his fingers through, he gathered your wetness and began to circle your clit slowly. Shuffling forward slightly, he leaned over you before hesitating and turning back to Ghost.

“Can ah suck her tits?” His question was measured, as if he hated asking permission, but thought better of it. Ghost chuckled behind the mask. 

“Good pup for askin’. Does she want you to suck her tits?” Soap snapped his head down to you, eyes wide as pleading. Grinning, you nodded encouragingly. 

“Please, Soap.” Grabbing at your breasts, you shoved them together enticingly, causing Soap to moan and lean forward, burying his face between them, tongue dragging over the warm flesh before his mouth closes over one nipple, sucking intently as his fingers flick over your clit. 

Moaning softly, you spread your legs wider, encouraging him to keep going. And he did. His fingers were on the rough side as he continued to roam, trying to find what you liked. Reaching down, you moved his hand slightly, positioning it exactly how you liked it, and he took it on board, working his fingers in this new spot as his teeth closed over your nipple, making you cry out. 

“Pathetic. Needing to be shown where she likes it pup. Can’t find it on ya own?” Ghost rumbled, shaking his head as he continued to brush a hand through your hair tenderly. “Look at her cunt, weeping and clenching round nothing. Come on, pup. You’re not even trying to make her cum.” 

Soap whined at the words and, desperate to prove himself, his fingers moved to circle your hole before pushing two in. You hissed slightly at the sudden stretch of his thick fingers but moaned as his thumb continued to flick over your clit and clenched down on his fingers. 

“Curl them upwards.” Ghost whispered, his other hand trailing down to where Soap’s was between your legs. You twitched as you felt the rough material of his gloves against your sensitive pussy. “Get that spot right in here.” You couldn’t stop the loud moan that broke through your lips as Soap followed the instructions, hand reaching down to grip at his wrist as your hips ground against his fingers, building up a steady rhythm. 

Grinning darkly against your chest, Soap continued to suck at your breasts, squeezing and nipping at the sensitive skin as your pussy squeezed around him, slick dripping down onto the hard floor beneath you. 

“That’s it, bonnie. Fuck yerself on ma fingers. Can feel ye clenchin’. Dinnae ye wanna cum fer me? Ye can dae it.” He rambled; voice muffled against your chest as he quickened his pace at your clenching. 

“Don’t speed up.” Ghost admonished him, smacking his hand down where Soap’s was inside you, causing you to jolt. “If she likes it, keep steady. She’ll let you know if she wants the pace changed.” You moaned in response to Ghost’s words, one hand clutching at Soap’s wrist, the other reaching for Ghost to squeeze him in thanks. 

“Just like that, Johnny. Keep it like that!” Panting, you continued to grind down on his fingers. He pulled off your tits, leaning down to spit on your clit before bringing his other hand over to rub over it like you showed him before. Gasping, you squeezed around his fingers tighter, feeling your impending climax build. His hungry eyes bored into yours, his face twisting into a leering sneer. 

“Feels good aye? Gonna cum, bonnie? Make a mess all over ma fingers?” Unable to form a coherent sentence, you whined, hand squeezing his wrist to hold him inside you, pleading silently for him not to pull out. “Nae goin’ anywhere. Stayin’ right here til ye cum.” 

Your eyes rolled as you moaned, head falling back, only for a rough hand to grasp your hair and pull you back up. 

“You keep lookin’ at him, love and you don’t look away. Show him how fucked out you look when you cum.” Ghost’s words were harsh as he positioned himself behind you but sent a sharp bolt of heat through you and Soap moaned as he felt your cunt clench and pulse. “Yeah, that’s it, love. Be a good girl now. Show him how good he’s makin’ you feel.” 

“So fu- ah! So fucking good, sir.” You blinked up at Ghost, whose eyes were wide and feral. Adjusting you slightly, he pressed his hips into your back, and you felt his stiff erection pressing against your shoulder. 

“Feel what you’re doin’ to me? Feel how hard you’ve made me? Been such a good girl yeah? Lookin’ so fuckin’ pretty with your fucked out face when you ain’t even had a cock in you yet.” Panting at Ghost’s harsh words, you glanced back down at Soap, eyes wide and desperate. 

“I’m gonna cum. Soap please! I can’t...” He shook his head, body trembling. 

“Give it tae me, hen. Please. Been such a good fuckin’ lass fer us. Show me how bonnie ye look when ye cum, aye?” Your brain was going into overdrive, stimulated by not only Soap fingers, but his and Ghost’s desperate words, the intensity of their eyes on you… you felt yourself crumbling, careening towards the edge as one more flick of Soap’s fingers sent you over. 

Jerking your hips, you cried out, body shaking as Ghost wrapped his arms around you, cooing in your ear and talking you through your orgasm, but you couldn’t make sense of the words. Soap’s fingers softly worked you through your release, slowly pumping in and out of you until he felt your body sag. Withdrawing his digits, he held them out to Ghost, a sly grin on his face. 

“Wanna taste, Lt?” Looking up lazily at the two of them, you noted Ghost’s narrowed eyes. But they weren’t focused on Soap due to his coy request, but rather his glistening fingers soaked with your climax. Pulling the balaclava up to expose his mouth, Ghost leaned forward, sucking Soap’s thick fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste. Whining softly at the erotic sight, you reached back behind you, trying to wrap your hand around his clothed cock, but his gloved hand stopped you. 

“Not right now, love. Need to see Johnny fuck you.” He whispered, squeezing your wrist tenderly before lifting himself up a little straighter. “C’mon pup. I can see you leaking from here.” 

“Och, I thought I was eatin’ her out next!” He grumbled, body already halfway shifted to put his head between your legs. 

“Plans changed. You can eat your cum out of her. Need to see her crying on a cock, now.” His voice was urgent, as he pressed his palm into his aching erection. “Don’t keep me waiting.” 

At the warning, Soap scrambled back up your body, lowering his head to capture your lips in a kiss for the first time. His tongue pressed into your mouth, sweeping over yours as he shuffled his legs up until you felt the heat of his hard dick against your sensitive pussy. Everything about him was demanding and insistent, impatient as one hand clawed at your breast. The other was wrapped around his cock, sliding it up and down the length of your wet slit, catching your clit with his head and causing you to jerk. Breaking away from the kiss, you surged up, eyes transfixed on the glistening head of his cock, covered in your slick. 

Grinning savagely, he pressed inside, both hands gripping at your hips as he let out a throaty groan as your own breath stuttered, reaching out to grasp at his arm for stability.

“Steamin’ hell she’s tight, Lt. Like she’s nae been fucked in a wee bit.” His nails dug into the skin of your waist, surely leaving marks that would remain for days after. Ghost grunted and you heard him unzipping his pants. Glancing over, you watched as he pulled out his heavy cock, thick and hard with his tip flushed and leaking. Tugging his glove off, he held out his hand to Soap, who spat on it without a second thought. Then, he held his hand out to you with an expectant look. Without hesitation, you spat in his palm as well and he moaned, closing his hand around his cock and pumping it steadily. 

Before you’d even gotten accustomed to his size, Soap began to thrust, hard and fast from the get-go. He buried his face into your neck, whining and rambling nonsense about how good it was, but most of it was incoherent, his accent thickening as he continued to erratically slam his hips into your cunt. You hissed, the pace bordering on being not pleasurable as he grasped your hips tighter. 

“Soap…” you whined, pressing against his shoulders, but the man was unmovable, lost in his own head. Your eyes flicked up desperately to Ghost, who huffed, shuffling down Soap’s body to place a resounding smack on his ass. Yelping, Soap sprung up, cock pulling out of you entirely as he spun around to glare reproachfully at Ghost. 

“That hurt, Simon.” He pouted, brows furrowed. Ghost snorted, clearly not feeling sorry. 

“You’re pathetic, pup. Losing your head the moment you get your dick in something warm, and you wonder why I don’t let you fuck me.” Soap ducked his head, face flushing as he let out a whine of protest. 

“Felt so good, Lt. Couldnae help maself. Her bonnie pussy was grippin’ me like a vice.” He glanced over at you, eyes apologetic, but with a spark of lust, as if he enjoyed Ghost telling him off. 

“Not just about you, pup. Do I need to show you how to fuck a pussy?” Soap shook his head indignantly, turning his back on Ghost to bring his attention towards you. Running his calloused hands down your legs, he wrapped them around his waist as the head of his cock caught against your wet hole. Moaning, he slides back inside with ease, hands reaching for your tits once more as he set a better pace, rolling his hips and catching your clit with his pubic hair every pass. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” He growled, mouth lowering to latch onto your nipples, tonguing over them as he continued his slow, grinding pace. “Such bonnie tits. Such a bonnie cunt too. Fuck lass, ye been holdin’ out on me. Could have fucked ye sooner if ye weren’t so stubborn.” 

Between Soap’s praise, his rocking hips, and the insistent press of his cock inside your cunt, you felt like you were melting into the floor below you. 

“Just like that, Soap. God, your cock feels so good in me.” Your hands dragged red lines down his back, causing his pace to stutter and pick up again. Moaning, you felt your second orgasm edging closer as he continued, bucking his hips up to grind against the spongy spot his fingers had fun into before. Ghost kneeled just off to the side, stroking his dick in time with Soap’s thrusts, grunting every time he swiped his thumb over the head. 

“That’s it, Johnny. Keep fucking her like that. Doing a good job for once, pup. Touch her clit like she showed ya too.” Soap’s face was flushed as he nodded along with Ghost’s words, reaching down between you. His hips stuttered as you clenched around him at the contact, moaning as his pace fumbled again, legs shaking as his thrusts sped up, breath coming out in short pants. You whined softly, feeling your orgasm fade with the change in pace. Scoffing, Ghost moved behind him, gripping Soap’s hips to halt him once more. 

“Losing your head again, pup?” He titters, shaking his head as he mouthed along Soap’s neck. “I’ll show you how to really fuck her, since you clearly can’t without blowing your load early.” 

Soap smacked one of the large hands off his hips, glaring over his shoulder. 

“Fuck off. I can fuck her just fine. You can wait ye fuckin’ turn, ye bastard.” 

Instead of being offended, Ghost chuckled darkly. 

“You’re losing her when it starts feelin’ too good for you. But don’t worry pup. I won’t be fucking her.” His arms reach down, tracing over Soap’s to place his hands on your hips as well, holding you steady. At the look in Ghost’s eye, you whimpered softly, cunt squeezing around Soap, causing him to twitch. “I’m going to fuck you into her. Still got that plug in ya, right slag?” 

Your eyes widened, realising what was about to happen. Soap was practically vibrating between your legs, breath stuttering as his eyes became unfocused. 

“Wouldnae be able to hold it if ye fucked me too.” His voice cracked as he stared over at Ghost.

“Too bad, pup. Already showed me you can’t fuck a pussy properly. Need me to show you how. You alright with that, sweetheart?” He glanced over Soap’s shoulder as his hands reached down to toy with the plug in Soap’s hole that you hadn’t noticed before. Your eyes were wide as you nodded fiercely before remembering Ghost’s earlier request. 

“Yes sir… want you to fuck him into me please.” With the mask still lifted up above his mouth, you could see his appreciative grin. 

“Good fucking girl. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you what you need.” He reaches his hand down to your mouth, holding out his fingers. “Get them wet f’me, yeah?” Nodding, you lean your head up, sucking his fingers into your mouth, letting saliva pool on your tongue before swiping between the thick digits, tasting the lingering muskiness of his cock on them. Ghost let out a deep rumbling sound in his throat as he began to shove his fingers deeper, pressing down into your throat, gagging you slightly. Cooing softly, Ghost stroked the pads of his fingers along your tongue. “That’s it, love. Just like that.” 

Between you both, Soap whined, tipping his head back to rest on Ghost’s shoulder.

“Please, Simon. Please.”

Withdrawing his fingers, Ghost pressed his thick digits into Soap, causing him to fall forward, hands either side of your head as his cock twitched inside you. Breathing softly, you watched his face crease, his brows pinching as his mouth hung open. 

“Fuck Si… right there!” He gasped, breath hitching as he rocks his hips back onto Ghost’s fingers, and forwards into your wet cunt. His hands clenched into fists as he opened his eyes to stare into yours before leaning down and sealing his lips over yours once more, hips beginning that same slow, filthy grind. Wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close, you pressed your tongue into his mouth in a messy kiss, swirling it around his. 

Your head grew hazy as time passed and you felt your orgasm returning as Soap picked up the pace of his grinding, stimulating your clit as his hands tweaked at your nipples. 

“Fuckin’ hell. Still so fuckin’ wet from earlier, pup.” Ghost withdrew his fingers before pressing the blunt head of his cock, catching it against the rim of Soap’s hole, causing him to jerk, fingers digging into your hips. “That’s it, pup. Open up f’me. Let me in ya.” One of Ghost’s large hands wrapped around Soap’s neck, pulling him up and breaking your kiss with him. The other gripped Soap’s hip, pressing in slowly with a loud groan until his hips sat flush against Soap’s. Releasing his neck, Ghost placed his other hand on your hip, squeezing you softly. He set a slow, but harsh pace, hips smacking into Soap’s, causing his cock to punch deep into you as he did so. 

Letting out a choked gasp, Soap fell forward again, burying his face into your neck and peppering the sweaty skin with nipping kisses as his hips were pushed forwards into you. Rocking back against him, your hands clutched at his hair desperately, cupping the back of his head as your other hand reach out to Ghost’s thick forearm. Your head was spinning, a strangled noise leaving your mouth as Soap’s tongue dragged its way up your neck. 

“Tastes so good, hen. Feel so fuckin’ good too. Wanna feel ye cum ‘round me, please.” One hand tangled in your hair as the other reached down to your clit once more, sending shivers down your spine. 

Ghost continued his pace, the loud slapping of skin filling the room as his breathing grew heavier. Soap was also growing desperate, driving his hips forwards and backwards, stimulating himself over and over as his thumb continued to flick over your clit. 

“That’s it pup. Doin’ s’fuckin’ well.” Reaching down, Ghost added his own thumb to the mix, flicking over your clit to make sure Soap didn’t lose his rhythm, his eyes catching yours. “Fuckin’ hell look at you, love. So bloody pretty. Can barely look at me, can ya? Cock feels that good, yeah?” He chucked, whispering something inaudible into Soap’s ear as you arched your back, feeling that brink edge closer. 

“Ghost… Soap.” You weren’t sure which name to call as you felt your body twitch, pussy clenching around Soap’s cock as he continued to buck his hips into your wetness. You could feel yourself beginning to spiral, eyes locking onto Soap’s face as he panted heavily, a soft whine leaving his lips after every one of Ghost’s heavy thrusts. 

“Bonnie… tell me yer close… I’m so fuckin’ close. Need tae feel ye cum first. Please… fuck, oh fuck please. Need it real bad.” Soap practically whispers, one hand clutching at your breasts, your hips, your legs as his other still pressed between you both, covered by Ghost’s larger one. 

“Good fuckin’ pup, Johnny. Beggin’ for her to cum ‘n all.” Ghost’s voice was rougher, sweat beaded on his brow as he quickened his pace, fucking into Soap with angled thrusts that made him shiver and whine. “Come on love, you can do it. You can cum for him. Make the pup feel real good, yeah?” 

All you could do was nod and moan, fingers digging into weathered skin as your cunt began to pulse rhythmically. One final hard thrust from Ghost pushed Soap up deeper into you as their combined thumbs over your clit sent you hurtling off the edge. As your toes curled with the sensation, your back lifted off the hard floor, hands clutching at the two men desperately as your head spun. 

Soap followed soon behind, thrusting quick and sharp up into your clenching cunt before releasing inside, cock twitching and releasing his load deep inside you as he shook with pleasure. 

As he shivered through his orgasm, Soap leaned forward, collapsing on your chest as your arms wrapped instinctually around him, both panting in tandem. Not wanting to be left high and dry, Ghost pulled his hips back and set a merciless pace, pounding into Soap’s hole until he began stuttering. 

“So fuckin’ tight, pup. Both of you… so fuckin’ pretty. Good fucking sluts. So good f’me. Gonna fuck both of ya next time. Wanna see how good you sit for me, love.” He rambled, eyes half closed as his pace turned erratic until he slammed his hips forward with a low grunt, stomach clenching from the effort as he emptied his load deep into Soap. 

Moaning softly at the feeling, Soap stirred, looking over his shoulder accusingly. 

“Ye ken I hate shittin’ out cum, ye eejit.” He grumbled, nestling his face into your chest, his soft cock slipping out and resting wetly against your thigh. Grimacing slightly, you glanced up at Ghost, who had a dazed smile on his face. He looked at you, as though assessing the situation before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Get over it, Johnny. You beg me to cum in ya more often than not.” He shook his head before returning his attention to you, cupping your cheek softly. “Did so well for me, for us. You up for doing this again?” 

Without hesitation, you nodded, eyes wide and hopeful as Ghost grinned, pushing back from the bed and standing up. 

“I’ll get cloths from the bathroom. You take care of our girl, right Johnny?” Soap simply hummed, burying his face further between your tits as Ghost scowled, but smiled and walked away. 

“I’ll eat ye out in the mornin’ hen. Good wake-up call fer ye.” He rumbled against your chest.

Grinning to yourself, you threaded your hand through Soap’s hair, holding him close as you felt yourself settle, being lulled to sleep by the warm body that was sprawled on yours. Price’s reports could wait.

[nightingale-prompts]

Finding Batboy

First| Previous | Next

Phantom

King

Fenton

Apprentice

Batboy

He just wanted to be Danny. Just Danny, nothing else.

But who was Danny anymore?

Danny was a 14-year-old boy who died in a tragic accident. Danny had a decent life with friends and a sister who he loved. Danny wanted to be an astronaut and loved the stars. Danny had an astrology phase that made him so annoying to everyone but Sam. Danny liked dogs and cats hated him for no reason no matter how much he loved them. Danny wanted to join the robotics club with Tucker. Danny still snuck into his sister's room when he was scared to sleep in her bed.

But Danny is dead. Danny has been dead for years now.

He missed being Danny.

Now he was Phantom.

No past.

No home.

No family.

But if that was true, what did that make Dick?

Just another person that he would have to leave behind. It wouldn't be long. History doesn't repeat but it rhymes. It can't last. It won't.

Danny flew to some abandoned factory located somewhere in Gotham. He hadn't really paid much attention. He just needed a desolate place to land. Somewhere even the ghosts have long abandoned.

Truthfully Danny didn't want to be alone. A part of him felt the urge to find that revenant that he had met. Something that felt familiar to him, someone that could understand.

But right now Danny wanted to rest and he wasn't picky about where. He wrapped his wings in a tight cocoon and plopped on the ground. His sleep was deep, more than he ever remembered having before, except once.

Danny walked through the halls of a spiraling tower that overlooked the Ghost Zone. The tower was decorated with stars and moons. Mist hovered just above the floor creating a icy blue carpet. Ghost sheep napped in corners. The scent of poppy and pine filled the air.

As Danny ascended to the top he met with a familiar face. Nocturne the ghost of dreams. The ghost's thick bridged nose reminded Danny of that of a sheep that matched his curled ramhorns. His red eyes with horizontal pupils reminded him of a demonic ram he had seen in a horror movie once. Danny could practically hear that line again: "Would thou like to live deliciously?"

It still gave Danny chills.

"Please refrain from making such comparisons." Nocturne said, his voice deep but soft at the same time.

Danny had gotten to know Nocturne some time ago. Apparently, he and Clockwork were close. They shared a high rank among ghosts as they were abstract manifestations rather then being that were once living like some. The hierarchy of ghosts was complex, and Nocturne was not someone to look down on.

"Nox, why am I here?" Danny said standing before the seven-foot frame of the amorphous ghost.

"You are spending too much time in the material realm. If you don't get time back in the realm to which you belong you'll go mad. It's already starting to happen. I stole your mind away for a bit to give you a mental break but your body is already starting to break down." Nocturne said waving a finger at him.

"My body and brain are fine Nox." Danny said crossing his arms.

Nocturne picked the boy up with one hand and held him at eye level.

"You are having trouble shifting are you not? Its not coming as easily as it should. The more attached you get to a form without the energy from our world to break it up the worse it will be. The Ghost of Time has already told me of the problem. You must stay here for the time being and recover. It is what's best. Mental weakness is the worst one can suffer and the remedy is sleep." Nocturne's breath smelled like warm milk and cinnamon. It calmed Danny's nerves and made his eyes heavy.

Clockwork had put him up to this. That old man...really was....annoying....Zzzz.

Back in the world of the living and awake mass panic has broken out.

Batboy is currently missing and Nightwing is not handling it well. The entirety of the Gotham Vigilantes team has been notified and is searching the cities of Gotham and Bludhaven.

"Have you searched the docks?" Nightwing asked frantically as he searched every rooftop in the city.

"I'm working on it. Do you really think he's here?" Red Robin said scanning every unit on the lot.

Red Hood didn't know what the BatBoy kid looked like other than the whole wings thing. If his little buddy Phantom could help it would help.

Although they had a slight resemblance Jason could see too many differences when looking at the pictures. Phantom had round ears, and silver hair that moved like fire and looked like a human. Batboy had long sharp ears, claws, pointy teeth, blueish-green skin, wings, and a white fluff around his neck. Clearly, they were different.

Batman searched the dark allies of Gotham as Signal and Orphan split up to cover as much ground as possible. Oracle searched every camera from the past few hours for the boy.

The good news was that Batboy was found. The bad news was who found him.

"Poor little Bluebird lost his fledgling and Batsy is looking for the lost pup. I should let them know that the little guy has been found! Ahahahaha!"

[benkeibear]

『 Your Girlfriend 』

☼ synopsis: When Yuuji introduced his half brother to you, you didn't expect to end up between them the way you do but you're the last one to complain when you get to take Choso's virginity.

☼ characters: Choso, Yuuji

☼ wc: 4.2k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, threesome, virgin Choso, fingering, oral (reader giving and receiving), consent checks, cum eating, creampie, soft aftercare, mentions of breaking Choso's heart at the end

☼ notes: oh me oh my I finally finished this. It's wayyy longer than expected hehe || Thank you @semisgroupie for beta reading this! @kentophilia @kenpachisbrat thank you for letting me write this in chat and for hyping me up! || Taglist

When Yuuji first told you that his brother would come to live with the both of you, you weren't too impressed given that your place wasn't very big. However, all doubts washed away the moment you met him - Choso.

The man was slightly older than your boyfriend but just as pleasant to be around. Sure, he looked a little intimidating at first, quite the opposite of the man you live with, but his warm personality made up for it tenfold. Reminding yourself that your apartment wasn't big, you finished setting up the couch in your living room, a two-room apartment not leaving much more options but it was fine for Choso, who was just grateful to have a roof over his head while he looked for a new home.

Seeing him sit there on the couch that now resembled a bed, you couldn't help but stifle a small laugh. He looked like a soggy kitten in a cardboard box, ready to be picked up and taken to a warm and loving home. Perhaps it was his quiet nature whenever you were around, the puppy dog eyes he gave you when you spoke to him, or the fleeting glances he gave whenever he thought you weren't looking. Whatever it was, you enjoyed his presence at home, while Yuuji was head over heels that his two favorite people got along so well.

"You know he has a crush on you, right?" Yuuji asked with a smirk, his voice just above a whisper as you two stood in the comically small kitchen while Choso got the living room ready for movie night.

Closing the oven in which a mouthwatering pizza slowly started to become golden-brown, you shot your boyfriend a glare, eyes wide and mouth pressed to a thin line.

"Don't say that!" You hushed back, unsure if it was because you didn't want Choso to hear a conversation about him or because of the weird feeling these news brought.

You shouldn't like the fact that another man wanted you, let alone the brother of your boyfriend. Yet somehow your heart skipped a little beat upon the thought of not just someone - but the sweet Choso - having a little schoolboy crush on you. It made you feel giddy in all the wrong places.

"Why not? He told me himself, "the pink-haired man laughed amused, not feeling threatened or worried in the slightest since he knew you were loyal to a fault.

All you could do was shake your head, laughing it off uncomfortably as you got the pizza out of the oven. It looked perfect, really. The crust was thick and crisp, while the cheese was the perfect mix of gooey and toasted, a beautiful golden color. The way you were desperately trying to think of anything but the man sitting in your living room seemed pathetic, even to yourself.

"And what's the point of this conversation?" You asked, feigning annoyance as one hand moved to rest on your hip.

"Don't know. Maybe we can give him what he wants..." Yuuji dragged his words to build anticipation before finally continuing his sentence, trying to look for any reaction on your face, "you." Yuuji stated boldly as a smirk grew on his lips.

Could he feel how the heat shot up to your cheeks, or perhaps he heard the smallest gasp - or was it the way your pupils dilated that gave you away?

"I- what?" You asked, clearly at a loss of words. Yuuji has always been stating how he'd never survive seeing you with another guy, which is why he never wanted to have a threesome, so what changed?

"You heard me." He chuckled and pulled you closer, a boyish grin spreading across his handsome face when you tried to look everywhere but at him.

"Only if that's what you want, of course," he stated, making sure that you knew no one would ever pressure you into anything you weren't entirely certain of. It took you a moment to answer, your mind and heart arguing with one another over what would be the right thing to do, but Yuuji's lips kissing down from your cheek to your neck ripped you out of that train of thought.

"I've seen the way you look at him... and he's a good guy. I trust him with my life," Yuuji whispered against the soft skin of your neck, eliciting goosebumps.

"Plus," he started and you felt the hot breath of a chuckle follow before his next words came out, "He's a virgin."

You didn't mean for your eyes to lock with your boyfriends with such a hungry look in them, but your body reacted before your brain did and the pink-haired man could only laugh as a response before pecking your lips.

"I'll take that as a yes then?" He asked amused and grabbed the little pizza cutter, laughing to himself at how angry you were at him when he cut the pizza with a scissor last time.

"And you're sure that you want that? I wouldn't want you to see me as a cheater or... leave me over it." Your last words came out as a mumble, the fear eating away at your insides, but Yuuji was quick to react.

"I was the one who suggested it!" He quickly reassured you, the pizza cutter hitting the kitchen counter with a loud bang since he just dropped it mid-movement.

"We don't have to do this if you're not entirely sure, I would never pressure you or think any less if you say yes," he continued and a kiss on your forehead followed right after.

You were looking for reassurance in his gaze and he simply smiled at you with that sweet smile of his, a tiny dimple forming on each of his cheeks as his eyes grew soft. There was no malicious intent behind his offer, only sincerity without any sort of resentment or judgement.

"Yes. I think we could make him feel good," you whispered quite shy before hiding your face in the chest of your boyfriend, laughing to yourself as you shook your head slightly. It looks like you'd be sleeping with your boyfriend's brother tonight.

Neither Yuuji nor you brought the topic up during dinner, so you three were just devouring this pizza that looked far too delicious for its own good while watching a movie Choso picked. To be honest, you barely paid attention to the movie, your mind was busy with the thoughts of what would happen, unsure how to even initiate anything of that sort.

Hey Choso, wanna fuck me while your brother, my boyfriend, watches? you thought to yourself, your heart beating faster at the thought of Choso's reaction, but Yuuji saw the way your mind was racing with at least 100 miles per hour.

A single look from your lover was enough to calm you down, it screamed I got this, don't worry and you trusted his intuition, trying to even your breath and sort your thoughts. Still a little nervous, your boyfriend pulled you onto his lap, a stupid grin planted on his face when he rested his forehead against yours.

"Yes?" He whispered, giving you a chance to back out before anything starts, but you just nodded softly before his lips melted against yours in a passionate kiss.

The world around you slowed down before it stopped turning, your surroundings slowly disappearing as you closed your eyes and let yourself fall fully into the kiss. As your tongues were dancing, you entirely drowned out the fact that Choso was still sitting on the other end of the couch, as stiff as a board.

He tried, he really did try not to look over at you two making out, but it got increasingly harder when you whimpered into the kiss shortly after Yuujis hand slipped under your shirt. As a last ditch effort, the black-haired man cleared his throat, only for the both of you to whip your head in the direction of the noise - lips swollen from the kissing and your eyes glossed over with pleasure.

"W-would you mind taking that to your bedroom?" He asked almost shy, not wanting to sit around awkwardly while his brother pretty much fucked his girlfriend right next to him.

Yuuji gave you a knowing look before turning back to Choso while lifting your shirt over your head to leave you more vulnerable than before in just your pretty bra. You heard the way Choso gulped and averted his gaze, and your boyfriend spoke up to break the silence.

"Or you could join us?" He simply offered as one of his hands slowly raked up your ribcage, a needy look of yours now directed at Choso, who didn't know if this was a wet dream or reality.

"What?" His voice cracked, making it sound comically high pitched followed by a giggle of yours at how flustered he was.

"Can I kiss you?" You asked quite bold, trying to ignore the butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach.

Choso could only nod in response, too scared this is just a prank you two are trying to pull off, so he embarrasses himself in front of you, but before he knew it, you were sitting on his lap with that honeyed smile of yours so close to his own face.

"I heard that you like me." Your voice traveled across his spine and caused every hair on his body to raise and he only nodded once again.

"Can you tell me if this is what you want? To make out with me?" You asked, guilt slowly forming in your chest because he was so unresponsive and resembled a deer in headlights more than a man who wanted to be with you.

"Is this okay? Can I... really?" He asked with a raspy voice, overflowing with insecurity.

Unsure of how to actually make him feel more secure, you placed his hands on your bare sides, a sweet smile on your lips as you kissed the corner of his lips.

"I can be all yours tonight, if that's what you want." Your words gave him the green light and that was all he needed to kiss you.

His kisses were much more gentle than his brothers, a lot less possessive and his hands held onto you like a ghosts, worried that you'd crumble if he actually held onto your curves. You simply let Choso explore the territory, not plunging your tongue into his mouth and forcing something when instead this was so soft and sweet. Your body shuddered when a second pair of hands started touching you, opening up your bra before raking down your spine, just to see you shudder again. Yuuji wanted to help you two move things forward but left it to you to take your bra off, which you did without hesitation prior to moving Choso's hands further up your body so they were now resting on your chest.

The black-haired man immediately started to grope the supple flesh of your tits, his tongue finally slipping past your lips to caress yours with a newfound confidence - A confidence you could clearly feel between his legs. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding into the bulge that formed in his pants, mewling sweetly when he gently played with your nipples.

You could feel your own slick starting to soil your panties, making them stick against your hot skin, so you carefully pushed Choso against the backrest of the couch, the both of you panting heavily.

"Looks like you made her want more," Yuuji teased his older brother as he helped you shimmy out of your pants, desperately trying to get rid of any layer that separated your wet cunt from him.

"Show him how wet you are, flower." Your boyfriend made you bend over to show your slick folds to his brother, a single digit of the younger man gliding through your folds, which made you gasp in surprise and pleasure.

"More," you begged when his finger left your needy cunt just as quick as it appeared, resulting in a sweet chuckle of his. He won't ever deny you your pleasure, but Choso was the one the spotlight was on tonight.

"I'll play a little with your pussy and you show him how good you can use your mouth," Yuuji mused and made you stand on all fours on the floor, your face resting on Choso's thigh, who eagerly pushed his pants down just enough to free his hard cock. Just as promised, you felt two slender fingers slip into your dripping wet entrance the moment you started drooling all over Choso's cock. It was a little longer than Yuuji’s but nowhere near as girthy. Your tongue darted out eagerly to lick from his balls to his tip before your lips wrapped around him and your head sunk down all the way.

Choso had to grip the cushions of the couch he was seated on the second your nose touched the stubble on his groin. "F-fuck, slow down, please,” the man begged for mercy, his virgin cock not used to pleasure provided by anything but his own hands or pillow, but his plea was met with a needy moan from you as Yuuji started to massage your sweet spot with his fingers. A shit-eating grin was all the black-haired man saw when he looked at Yuuji for help.

“Play nice, you're his first,” Yuuji reminded you with a chuckle, ignoring the way his own dick ached for a crumb of your attention, but he patiently waited for his turn.

With a frown you pulled away and gently kissed the pink tip of Choso's cock and swirled your tongue over it until his head fell onto the backrest, the sweetest moans filling the room alongside the squelching noises of your pussy. It was a sight you could certainly get used to, although you shouldn't even think about doing this again - especially not with your boyfriend's brother.

“Can I ride you?” You eventually ask boldly, craving to have him inside of you and it seemed like the feeling was mutual with the way his cock twitched at just the thought.

Your boyfriend slowly pulled his fingers from your core only to clean them with his tongue, caramel eyes looking right at yours as he did so, making the situation so much more intimate as you slowly climbed on top of the other man. Calloused hands were holding onto your hips with an iron grip and you could feel them tremble ever so slightly, which made you hesitate to sink down on him.

“Changed your mind?” You asked with a voice like honey, your soft lips kissing any trace of worry and insecurity away while making him feel like a god beneath your caress.

His hand reached down to line the bulbous tip up with your awaiting entrance, slowly guiding you down by the hips until you were fully seated on his cock. It felt so wrong but also just so divine to have another cock inside of you while your boyfriend slowly palmed himself through the fabric of his underwear as he watched your thighs shake and your lungs eagerly gasp for air. Your arms were slung around the man's neck, pulling him into your chest while you tried to regain your composure, but the size of him made it almost impossible for you to breathe, certain that he would bruise your cervix if he would thrust into you now, but you needed it, needed him to move. Choso, however, guided your hips, barely letting you bounce on top of him since he was close to bursting the moment you enveloped his cock with your tight heat.

“Don't you dare to cum inside. That's my girl,” Yuuji threatened his brother. Sure, he said he'd share, but the thought of another man filling you up and claiming you in that way made the jealousy bubble up. This was a side of your boyfriend you never even knew of because he wasn't the jealous type, but even the pure-hearted Yuuji had boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, which both of you respected - or at least tried to respect.

Choso carefully moved without ever pulling out to lay you on the couch. The image of you beneath him was a fantasy he fucked his hand to so many nights before and now it was reality, his hips mercilessly jerking against yours and his thrusts growing even sloppier than before. Long hair cascaded down to frame his face, but the moment you felt him twitch, you pushed against his chest, trying to get him out of the trance of fucking into you like an animal that was chasing his own high. It was almost too late - thick ropes of hot cum spurting right onto your cunt, coating your folds in ivory as some of it slowly slipped inside. It shouldn't have made you whimper like a bitch in heat, but the noise escaped your throat before you even realized it - and once you did, you were almost too embarrassed, perhaps a little scared to look at your boyfriend. Yuuji, however, chuckled at how quickly his brother came, caressing your cheek ever so gently despite the thin layer of sweat that slowly formed on your skin.

"You've done so well, flower. Do you think he should clean up the mess he made of my cute girlfriend?” He asked sickenly sweet, but a glare was set towards his brother, who looked completely fucked out with his hair disheveled and eyes half closed in pure bliss. Of course you nodded, loving the thought of another man licking up the mess he made of your cunt so your boyfriend could claim you properly. Choso barely registered the hand on the back of his head when he was pushed down between your thighs, instinctively lapping at your core and whimpering at the taste of your mixed fluids. It should disgust him, having his own cum on his tongue, but it tasted almost good mixed with your sweet nectar - and the fact that he got to eat out the woman of his dreams made his head spin and his arms hooked over your legs to bury his face further in your cunt. The man was skilled with his tongue despite it being his first time, he read your body language and the moment his cum was lapped up, he focused on the little nub, his tongue flicking your clit relentlessly until your hips bucked against his face helplessly.

“Enough” Yuuji moaned, his cock leaking precum as his hand wasn't good enough anymore. All your whines and moans made him lose his mind, so he urged his brother off of you to flip you around.

"Hmm, yes please, Yuu,” you moaned softly, begging for your boyfriend to finally have his turn with you. Your head was now resting on Choso’s trained thighs when Yuuji sunk into you, the stretch it provided had you spiraling towards your orgasm already.

The pace your lover set was relentless, hunger and the need to make sure you remember who you're with driving him as he pounded into you. Your entire body jolted with each thrust and you started to moan loudly, his name falling from your lips like a lewd prayer and your hands pawed at Choso’s thighs. The man was so spent after just one round, so he gently played with your hair while his younger brother made sure that his name is the only thing you remember at the end of this night. But his cock wanted more, slowly growing hard again and twitching against your face.

“Look at him. Show him your pretty face." Yuuji cooed and you did as you were told, teary eyes looking at your boyfriend's brother, some of his pre cum sticking to your cheek and glistening in the dim light. Both men were mesmerized by you as your orgasm washed over you, your body squirming and your head fell back into Choso’s lap, who used the opportunity to try to get you to suck him off again, addicted to the pleasure you provided.

Your entire world slowly faded away when your mouth sunk down onto Choso's pretty cock once again and in that moment you swore that nothing existed but the three of you, time passing in slow motion as the older brother thrust his hips upwards just in time with Yuuji's thrusts. It was animalistic, the sounds both men let out upon burying themselves inside of you entirely over and over again while all you could do was whine and moan pretty around the elders dick. His balls were coated in your saliva, but neither of you seemed to care when the pleasure your mouth provided drowned out everything else.

"Gonna swallow for him, yeah?" Yuuji asked breathless, the pace of his hips faltering for a moment - just long enough for you to make a sound of approval before his one hand moved from your hip to your bundle of nerves.

Rhythmic thrusts slowly turned sloppy as your boyfriend crumbled above you, which only pushed you further down onto his brother's cock, who was overwhelmed by the tightness of your throat enveloping his cock so perfectly. You helplessly moaned around him when his shaft twitched against your tongue, heavy balls contracting as his seed spurted down your throat, giving you no chance to taste him or show him what a good girl you are by savoring every bit on your tongue before swallowing it all. The sensation brought you to the brink of tears just as the pressure of your lover's hand against your clit got more intense. You could feel the warmth spreading inside your core - hot cum painting your insides as your boyfriend released deep inside of you. The feeling of being filled up on both ends sent you over the edge, your hips moving wildly against Yuuji and his hand, a mind numbing orgasm possessing your body as your back arched so beautifully.

Heavy breathing was the only thing to be heard in the living room for a few minutes. The credits of the movie that has been long forgotten were running on the screen, illuminating the three of you in a gentle light before you pressed the smallest of kisses against Choso's abs and hip bones. It was a small action, almost silly, but it was his first time and you wanted him to feel good, to feel at least somewhat special and adored. And you did adore him, a lot actually, but you would never have the same range of feelings for him as you do for his brother, which he was painfully aware of when Yuuji carried you to the bathroom when the older sibling could only follow like a lost little puppy - only to end up locked out of the bathroom.

"She just wants me to take care of her now, comfort her and all that," Yuuji explained through the closed door, hoping that his brother would understand. While you still cared a lot for him, wanted him, craved him, he would never be your number one. It was a fact he would have to get used to if he wanted to keep you in his life, if he wanted a chance to get at least a sliver of your love and if he wanted your body to make love to him once again. Even if he would never have you to himself, it was okay - at least he got to have you somehow.

As Choso sat in the living room, trying to sort his emotions, you were soaking in the tub, a gentle washcloth in Yuuji's hand washing away sweat and other filth from your soft skin. It was a nice feeling after what you've just done, making you feel loved and cared for.

"You did so well, flower." Yuuji's voice was gentle and filled with adoration for you.

Before you closed your eyes to relax further into his tender care, you kissed the palm of the hand that held the washcloth, a sweet smile on your lips when you looked up at your boyfriend. There was no doubt in your feelings for him, yet the guilt was eating you up from the inside.

"We should also take care of him. It's not right to leave him hanging like this when it was his first time," you mumbled, the weight of your heart weighing heavy at the thought of Choso sitting on the couch, still shirtless and sunken into himself with an aching heart. "Especially not when we both know there was more than lust involved for him." You continued, not wanting to feed into his little crush and build hope where there was none and Yuuji agreed, not having thought about that, perhaps, his brother craved some aftercare too.

"I guess you'll have to hold the both of us tonight," he hummed with a gentle smile, not minding to share his bed and you with his brother, but in the morning the three of you would need to sit down and break his heart in the most gentle way possible.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[mrsparrasblog]

I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

[gavisuntiedboot]

Centimeters

Gavi x physiotherapist! Reader

A/N: no one asked for this but lord have mercy the photos from today had me heavy breathing

“Gavi, remember to behave yourself.”

“But I haven’t even-“

Ansu put a finger to his lips, eradicating whatever the end of that sentence was going to be.

“We’re about to go in for medical exams and the doctor is your girlfriend. Now I know you’re still pumped full of all your raging teenage hormones-“

“Ansu!”

“-but please, hermano. There cameras literally everywhere. So I’m begging you: behave.”

Gavi crossed his arms over his bare chest, pouting slightly at being scolded in front of the other boys. It was no secret that he was madly in love with his physiotherapist/girlfriend, but it never deterred the boys from teasing him incessantly. His injury over the last year had made things tough. She was at training more than he was, coming home with stories about practice drills and player banter that made his chest pang. He shook the thoughts from his head as he was called in to have his measurements taken.

Gavi shuffled into the room, white socks gliding against the floor. He fiddled with the bandage on his arm from the blood draw. He wished for a second that he could be childish, pull he is girl away from all her responsibilities and have a hand to hold while someone stabbed him with a needle. But he knew that now, close to graduating from her program and becoming lead physio, his girl was running the entire operation. So he was happy to just stand there, wide eyed and slack jawed watching his perfect girlfriend concentrate on something flashed across a computer screen.

Eventually, she felt a searing gaze burn holes into the dip of her back, and turned around to see her shirtless boyfriend biting his lip and smiling like an idiot. She suppressed her own grin, grabbing his file and her clipboard.

“Mr. Gavira - ready to be examined?”

There was a playfulness in her voice that, when mixed with her raised eyebrow and overwhelming stare, made Pablo blush.

“Of course, doctora. And please, take your time. Absolutely no need to rush.”

There was a light giggle bouncing around the room before she sat Pablo down, blood pressure cuff tight on his arm. Her fingers grazed his bicep, lingering longer than would be appropriate for any other player.

“Those scrubs look great on you, doctora.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t pick them out for me this morning, Pablo. Uncross your feet so that I can get a proper reading of your blood pressure.”

He spread his legs in the chair, shorts riding up his muscular thighs. He sat back in the chair, getting lost in watching his favorite person in the world fiddle with a blood pressure cuff.

“Any other players give you complements on the scrubs?”

“No Pablo - there is no one on this team suicidal enough to flirt with me or pay me a compliment while you’re here. Poor Lamine was scared to take off his shirt. He kept looking around expecting you to walk in.”

You tapped him on the arm, instructing him to stand for his height and weight measurement. He stood on the mark, and as she adjusted the piece above his head, he couldn’t help himself from wrapping an arm around her waist. He pulled her into himself, planting a quick kiss to her temple before she should pull away.

“Gavi!”

“What?”

“We’re at work!”

“Come on - no one is going to scold me. I’m poor Gavi with the bad knee.” He finished his sentence with a pout, big puppy dog eyes making him look younger than his already mere 19 years.

“Yes yes, poor little Gavi and his busted knee. I, however, am not an asset to club or country. Hansi will scold me in three languages if we get caught making out in here.

“Wait,” he turned his head swiftly, arms back around her waist. “Making out is an option?? Why didn’t you tell me.” His laughter disguised the sound of her lightly smacking his chest. She grabbed her clipboard again, and placed the metal piece gently on his head.

“173 cm. Tsk tsk Pablo - still as small as last year.”

He smiled at his girl, amusement painting his every feature.

“I don’t remember size ever being an issue for you, doctora. I’m still taller than you.”

“By like 10 cm. That’s not a lot.”

She took down his weight, and then grabbed the tape measure to start assessing specific areas of his body.

“Of course you would say 10 cm is not a lot. Since you’re used to 15 cm daily.” He earned another smack to the chest.

“Pablo!”

“Or maybe it’s 20? Maybe we should find out since you already have the measuring tape ready.” He suggested while his fingers played with the waistband of his shorts. She grabbed his wrist in fear, terrified of what Gavi was willing to do in a close room.

He laughed loudly, bringing both hands to cup his girl’s face. He felt the warmth of her cheeks on his palms, and her flustered state gave him a squeezing feeling in his chest. He brought his forehead to hers, waiting until she met his eyes.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to whip it out here in the medical room. No matter how much you may want it.”

She laughed gladly, fears subsiding and chest feeling lighter after Gavi’s light touch. She grabbed the measuring tape and began. She started with his neck, saying her measurements out loud before jotting them down on the form.

“Chest is 94 cm. Bigger than last year.”

Her fingers traced downwards, leaving heat on Gavi’s skin as they got to his hips.

“Hips are 81.5. Same as last year.”

Next, she traced across his collar bone and down his arm, tapping to silently tell him to flex his bicep.

“Biceps are- holy.”

“That’s not a number, preciosa.”

“Biceps are 43 cm. Ehem, bigger than last year. By a lot.”

The doctor tried to stabilize her slight tremble as she wrote down the measurements. She tried to calm herself, but something about Gavi’s new, fuller physique was making professionalism almost impossible. Gavi, the little shit, flexed his biceps again, pleased with the reaction he could evoke.

“Lift up your shorts, Gavi.”

“Don’t you mean pull down?”

“Are you okay, Pablo? You’re hornier than usual today. Do I need to get a spray bottle?”

“Surgeon called me today and cleared me for more vigorous activities. Want to help me follow the doctor’s orders?”

She got on her knees, wrapping the tape measure around his thigh.

“Thighs are 61 cm. Smaller than last year. You’ll need to work on that.”

“I had my ACL repaired.”

“Pshh excuses excuses.”

She finished her measurements, taking other important vitals and making sure to ask him all the medical clearance questions.

“What time are you finished today, Pablo?”

“2 pm. They don’t want us out for too long in the heat. How many guys are left?”

“About 6. I’ll probably be done before you, so I can go home and make lunch.”

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her into him.

“No no, wait for me. We’ll leave together and go get food. You’ve had a hard day, let me treat you.”

“Every day is a hard day at work.”

He kept one arm around your shoulders as you walked him to the door.

“Then I’ll treat you every day. See you later, princesa.”

He hugged you into his side, and scampered off to the practice field. Neither Gavi nor his lady noticed the social media intern in the hall, who was quick to snap a picture of your embrace. The image of Gavi hugging his physiotherapist into his side and smiling from ear to ear set the internet into a flurry of comments.

New post from fcbarcelona: strong bonds between our players and medical staff 🫶

~~~

Hey do you think this is a cute dynamic? Wish you could read more about gavi x physiotherapist? Well you’re in luck! I have a ten part series of their love story in my master list!

Guys I love him so much. Anyways, like, comment, reblog, and check out the fundraiser in my pinned!! Love yall <3

[frost-queen]

Prospects for better fortune (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic   , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22  , @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers   , @merlieve   , @queen-of-books  , @glimmering-darling-dolly  ,@denkisclown   , @wildieflower  ,@meyocoko   , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07  , @melsunshine   , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat ,@rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her  ,  @evilcr0ne  , @vviolynn   , @niktwazny303  ,@avada-kedavra-bitch-187  , @markive-m , @lovesanimals0000

Summary: Colin's misfortune in trusting your uncle's lies leads to a forced engagement on an economic base. Only Colin and you are each other's worst enemy. A huge argument lowers the tempers as it leaves room for acceptance. Colin's dedication to you truly gets tested when a lord flirts just a little too much with you, his wife.

Colin was pacing around, scratching the back of his head. – “She will be here.” – Violet reassured him. Colin stopped to face his mother. – “I’d rather she would not, it’s just… the damn Queen.” – he told her gesturing at the grand doors where they were waiting behind. – “Watch your mouth boy!” – Violet called out with a motherly scowl, not liking one bit her son was insulting the queen. Colin sighed deep running his hands down his face.

“I still can’t phantom why you decided for this to happen.” – Colin accused his mother. Violet set her hands on her hip. – “How about prospects?” – Violet explained making her son sigh loud. Violet and Colin looked alarmed at the hearing of hastened heels click on the floor. Colin sighed loud once more, letting his head fall back. Portia was hastening herself, dragging you along by your wrist.

“We better be on time!” – she hissed at you, making you roll your eyes at her. Portia joined them, out of breath. – “I see you’ve made it Portia.” – Violet said with a gentle smile. – “Indeed.” – Portia answered, tugging at you to move in front of her. She did the final checks on your hair and dress. – “Mama.” – you groaned out wanting to slap her hand away. One scaring scowl of her was enough to stop your complaining.

The doors opened as Brimsley appeared in the entrance. He opened his mouth to speak, staring at the display before him. All of you had frozen at the hearing of the door opening. Portia’s hand lingering in the air by your hair. Violet trying to straighten Colin’s tie as his hand hovered above hers ready to slap it away. Brimsley cleared his throat as it made you all stand presentable.

“The queen is ready.” – he said before turning round. – “Alright this is it.” – Violet spoke plucking at Colin’s puffy hair for it to be perfect. – “Smile sweetheart.” – Portia let out. Colin moved closer to the door as did you. He held his hand out to you. With a roll of your eyes, you placed your fingers sloppy on his palm. Brimsley entered more, bowing to her majesty the queen. – “Colin Bridgerton and Y/n Featherington.” – he presented. Brimsley stepped aside, revealing the two of you to the queen.

Both of you forced out a smile, walking up to her. The queen narrowing her eyes. Colin and you dropped to one knee in front of her throne. – “So you two are engaged to be married?” – the queen asked, petting her dog on her lap. – “Yes, your majesty.” – Colin answered, keeping his head down. The queen hummed intrigued.

You exhaled soft, feeling your hand started to get sweaty in his hand. – “I give you both my blessing.” – she called out as it made you swallow nervously. Colin and you rose, meeting up with the queen’s gaze. – “Be off my little love birds.” – she chuckled, sending Colin and you off with her blessing. Colin and you spun, heading back for the door. Your smiled immediately dropped once the queen wasn’t looking.

The doors opened once more as Colin and you walked through. Hearing the doors shut behind you, you immediately pulled your hand out of his. Colin rubbed his hand annoyed against his pants. – “Must you really get so sweaty.” – he called out. – “Must you really be so infuriating.” – you responded. – “Infuriating?” – Colin said loud in disbelief. – “Oh that is nice coming from you!” – he answered walking up to you.

The two of you continued to bicker while going down the corridor to leave the palace. Portia and Violet giving each other a sheepish smile. – “Children.” – Violet teased with humour to bloom the reality of it. Portia snapped her fan open, waving herself some cool. Colin and you had been bickering the entire carriage ride at how more infuriating the other one was.

The wedding was by the end of the week. Which should be a day of delight and bliss to many was not the case for you. You simply wanted this day to be over so you didn’t have to play pretend for the ton anymore. Colin’s family tried to be supportive, knowing he was doing the family a great help by marrying you. Normally they wouldn’t condone it, but faith left them otherwise. Colin had lost a great deal of money to your money seeking uncle.

His family couldn’t have prevented him from investing. Something Colin thought would bring prospects, for it did not. It turned out to be a sham. A fraud. When your mama found out, she turned him the door. Yet it was already too late. He disappeared along with some money. A bit including of the Bridgerton’s. Colin’s failed investment took a bite in their coins. The best way to ease the gap a bit was a marriage between Bridgertons and Featheringtons.

The coins from your dowry could ease the pain a bit. Smooth a bit things over with the Bridgertons. The two of you found a home in the Featherington estate further downtown. More secluded. An estate your family used to retreat to during the winters. Since you weren’t the eldest, the house would go to man married your eldest sister.

Colin and you arrived at the house. – “I’ll be upstairs and I do not wish to see you for the entirety of the evening.” – he called out already moving towards the stairs. – “Fine, for I do not wish to see you for the entirety of the evening!” – you shouted back. – “Wonderful!” – Colin said loud, throwing his hand up as he went up the spiralling stairs. – “Your quarters are at the left!” – you instructed him. Colin grunted soft disappearing upstairs.

You turned round, screaming loud to out your distress. You then went upstairs to the quarters on the right. The staff remaining quiet as it was not their place to intervene. Some shared a brief look, knowing it didn’t feel like you would legitimate the marriage soon. Not whilst you were still bickering. You let yourself fall onto the bed, screaming and punching your pillow. Angry at your uncle for ripping off the Bridgerton’s which led you into needing to marry Colin Bridgerton. 

A Bridgerton you loathed. Colin groaned loud, pacing round the room. He grabbed for a pillow, throwing it against the window out of frustration. Why did he had to invest in your uncle’s mines? His speech seemed so pleasingly. He thought for sure he’d get a fortune out of it. The only thing he got out of it was a marriage to you. Someone he loathed.

The sun rose as the staff was already buzzing about. For weeks now, you have been trying to avoid Colin for as much as you could around the house. Each doing your own things during the day, even when it bored you from time to time. There weren’t enough activities around the house to keep you company. You stumbled into the drawing room where to your misfortune Colin was too. Seeing him, made you sigh soft. Colin lifted his head up from behind his newspaper, lowering it.

“I shall leave.” – he spoke folding his newspaper to give you, your space. – “No, please do stay.” – you acted out with a curtsy. Colin slapped the newspaper annoyed on the small table. The door opened behind you, a maid entering with a tray. On the tray laid several letters neatly spread out. She moved past you to give the letters to Colin as he was man of the house now.

You snatched the letters from the tray before they could reach him. The maid looked confused at her empty tray. Bowing her head as she left the room once more. – “Y/n those are for me.” – Colin stated, holding his hand out. – “Am I not the lady of the house?” – you answered, looking through the post. Colin walked up to you in a firm pace, wanting to snatch the letters from you.

You turned away, keeping the letters out of his reach. – “Y/n!” – Colin let out loud. Colin grabbed your wrist, pulling it hard in front of him, ripping some letters from your hand. – “I loath you!” – you called out, slapping the remaining letters against his chest. – “I loath you!” – Colin repeated, slapping his letters against your chest. It made you gasp as you didn’t think he’d hit you back. – “I loathed you first!” – you made clear.

Colin and you stared intensely at each other. Glaring up in each other’s face. Colin looked away first, glancing down at the letters in his hand. He sighed loud seeing what kind of post was amongst them. He threw them frustratedly into the sofa. He then shouted loud, hands desperate in his hands.

“Colin!” – you called out wanting him to calm down. He inhaled sharp, wiping his hand over his face. – “If this wasn’t an economic proposition, I swear.” – he said loud. – “Hadn’t your family put me into debts, I wouldn’t be scrambling for coins to make a living!”

“Don’t bring my family into this!” – you replied loud, frustrated that he would blame this all on you. You had no idea and it was after all he who placed an investment with your uncle. – “Alright not your uncle who caused me to marry you!” – Colin shouted loud. – “I refuse to be blamed any longer for this grotesque misalliance!” – you screamed out as Colin grew silent. Staring at you in shock. – “No more!” – you let out with a dismissive gesture.

Panting loud at your little outburst. Colin turned his head a bit away. – “Well that was rather direct.” – he said, taken back by the intensity of your voice. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, you let yourself fall into an armchair. Head throbbing with a headache the fight. It might have been the biggest fight Colin and you endured. Colin went over to the letters, picking them up from the ground. He then returned to you, coming to sit beside you.

He opened the first letter, reading it out loud for you. His reading made you sit more upright and lean in to read the letter along with him. Colin and you opened every letter one by one, calmly discussing what to reply or how to manage your coins. Both seemingly calmed down and too worn out from the fight to continue bickering.

It was like this outburst needed to happen for Colin and you matched on a different level of understanding after that. The marriage was necessary, the best you could do was make it is comfortable as one could. Despite growing closer to each other, there still wasn’t any physical contact.

No hugs, no kisses and certainly not legitimating the marriage. Colin and you managed to find a lifestyle suitable enough for the income you had now. There were prospects for it increasing, but that took time.

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The carriage came to a stop as Colin got out. He offered you his arm as you took it to get out. – “I cannot believe Francesca is already debuting.” – you said unable to grasp how quickly she was growing up. Colin hummed soft, keeping your hand on his arm. – “I’m sure Anthony will have his hands full with now both Eloise and Francesca this season.” – Colin replied as he guided you inside. One of the doormen took your coat.

The warmth of the estate wrapping around your skin. The doorman gestured for you to head further. Colin and you arrived at another door. – “Do I look alright?” – you asked him as it was your first time out on a ball ever since the wedding. Colin turned to you, holding your chin with his thumb. – “You look wonderful.” – he replied, with a soft smile.

The doors opened as it startled Colin and you. Everyone at the ball, stared at the display. Colin cleared his throat lowering his hand on you. He took your hand, guiding you inside. Portia nudged Violet teasingly. – “What did I say.” – she whispered to Violet. Violet smiled, hopeful her son found happiness after all.

You joined the Bridgertons, hugging Violet. – “How are you feeling Francesca?” – you questioned seeing her look frightful with big eyes around. – “Bit overwhelmed.” Francesca answered in a quiet voice. – “Colin.” – Anthony called out, motioning with his head for his brother to follow. Colin gently removed your hand from his arm, following his brother to a more secluded area.

Kate wrapped her arm around you. – “A drink Y/n?” – she proposed. – “Yes please.” – you answered. Kate led you through the crowd to the staff was walking around with drinks. – “How are Colin and you?” – she asked, watching the dancers a bit. – “Quite alright.” – you answered with a smile. – “That is wonderful to hear.” – Kate filled in as she noticed a tray with glasses. She let go of your arm, taking two glasses, handing one to you.

Both of you took a sip, watching the dancers. – “Anthony?” – Kate said confused seeing her husband appear, making his way over to her. – “I simply must dance with you.” – he said taking her hand. Kate gave you a pleasing smile, handing her drink over to you before Anthony could steal her away. – “Well where is Colin?” – you called out, yet Anthony didn’t reply. Too focused on wanting to dance with his wife.

With a soft exhale, you emptied your glass with a few breaths. Turning around you placed your empty and Kate’s still full glass back on the tray. Bouncing a bit on your feet, you looked around for any sign of your husband. – “Miss Bridgerton.” – a man’s voice spoke from behind you. It made you turn your head in surprise. A lord came standing extremely close to you, his fingers trailing inches away from your arm upwards.

“Where is your husband?” – he asked looking briefly away to the people. – “He will be here shortly.” – you lied as the lord kept gazing at you. Making you a bit nervous. – “Such a shame he left you all alone.”  - the lord began standing half in front of you. – “A beautiful woman like yourself shouldn’t be left alone.” – he added as you were stunned by his approach around you.

“My husband is looking for me.” – you said making steps to leave his side. A grip around your wrist, kept you from going any further, making you gasp. – “He’ll find you soon enough.” – he tugged at your wrist, pulling you back at him. – “Perhaps a dance while we wait?” – he proposed.

“Lord Thomas!” – the voice made you turn your head in shock. Colin approaching the man with his hands behind his back. He came by your side, taking the lord’s hand, throwing it off yours. – “Flirting with a married woman?” – Colin spoke judgingly. – “My wife for that matter.” – he added with a glare. Colin let his hand glide in yours, holding it in a firm grip. His stare stern and full of anger. – “We’re leaving.” – Colin called out, pulling you away from the lord.

“But… Co…colin your family… Francesca?” – you said between breaths while you tried to keep up with his pace. – “They need our support.” – you told him, looking over your shoulder to his family somewhere in the crowd. Colin led you outside, calling the carriage over. The carriage pulled over as he pushed you inside. It made you squeal soft, positioning yourself better before your husband joined in.

The carriage got in motion as it wobbled. – “Colin?” – you asked confused, wanting to know what overcame him to simply call it a night. – “Your brothers expect our support for your sisters.” – you reminded him. Noticing how hungrily Colin was staring at you. He groaned deep, setting himself off as he moved across. Cupping your cheeks as he forced his lips onto yours.

Eyes shot wide as his lips trailed yours. Kissing yours desperate and hungrily. Colin retrieved his lips, panting loud in your mouth. He let himself fall back across to his bench as he took you with him. Still cupping your cheeks. You dropped onto his lap as he pulled your legs open over his lap.

His eyes gazed back at you, till they went up. Taking out one of your pins so most of your hair fell down. Exhaling in your mouth, he drew you closer again. The hotness of his lips on yours. It made you grab onto his shoulders, pressing your fingers into him. With one motion of his finger, he tilted your chin up. Hands on your bottom as he pushed you slightly higher.

A soft gasp escaping your mouth as he started to kiss your neck. Trailing down to your bosom. Panting loud against your skin in between hot kisses. Colin let his hand trail up your neck, pushing your head back. Kissing your exposed neck deeper. The carriage wobbled as Colin had to push his hand out to the side, to keep his balance.

Looking down at him, you breathed out loud, curling up a smile. He did the same, grabbing you again. You leaned down, kissing him hard. With admiration he looked up to you. You kissed Colin once more as he finally claimed you as his wife. Who knew it only took one flirty lord for him to finally admit he loved you.

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