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s0dium · 9 months ago

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Douchebag

A/n: This is honestly the BEST fic I've ever written! I took a lot from prompts I found on this site and the smut scene is inspired from a book called "The Kiss Quotient." (It was just so damn good). This fanfic is also inspired by my original fanfic, "Douchebag" Tengen x Reader. ALSO, I AM WORKING ON YUTA FICS, SO DON'T WORRY! Word count: 3.5k

Synopsis: Gojo Satrou was a man of many things. It would be hard to find anyone in the jujutsu world who hadn’t heard of his name before, whether that be through his many wins in battle or his reputation as an A-class player. Some describe him as eccentric, and others (mostly girls) describe him as irresistible. You? Well, you on the other hand would describe him as nothing else than an utter, complete, douchebag. Warnings: Enemies to lovers, teasing, fingering, intense kissing for a sec, squirting, use of pet names, belly bulge, cervix fucking, breeding kink, virgin!reader, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, choking ~

You scoffed, watching through the classroom window as a clearly frustrated old man stormed out of the building, no doubt a higher up. No doubt the work of Gojo Satoru. "God I hate him." You hissed, turning to face a dozing-off Shoko and your other friend Haibara. The classroom you sat in was almost empty, bathed in the soft light of midday filtering through large windows. Sparse shadows stretch across the well-worn wooden floor. Rows of desks, mostly unoccupied, face a dusty chalkboard at the front. "Who Satoru?" Shoko yawned, leaning into the palm of her hand to face you. Haibara lets out a loud chuckle. "Why? Because he's an ass to higher-ups?" He nods to the window and you click your tongue against the rough of your mouth. "No, it's because he is an ass in general. His whole 'holier than thou' attitude, and don't get me started on the way he treats girls." You practically shiver as you remember the time you saw some poor girl from Kyoto Jujutsu High profess her love to the white hair man, only to run away sobbing. "I swear to god it's like he expects us to kiss the floor that he walks on, he's.... infuriating" "Who's infuriating?" Oh god, you knew that stupidly deep voice anywhere. You whipped around to find yourself face to face with the very tall white-haired man you were talking about; a shit-eating grin spread across his infuriatingly handsome face.

“You couldn't be talking about me, could you?” Satoru's voice dripped faux shock and you rolled your eyes.

“Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” You spat.

“That must be why you love using that pretty mouth of yours to talk about me so much.” Satoru lowered himself to close the provoking height difference between the two of you until your noses were inches away from touching. “Cause ya love having me around doncha.”

In that moment you have to conjure up every ounce of self-restraint to not spit in his face there and then, and luckily your friends catch the drift. "Hey Satoru! What are you doing here?" Perked up Haibara who reached out his hand to dap Gojo up. "Well, Suguru and I are heading for a night out today, small club, and I thought, out of the kindness of my heart," You scoff and Gojo merely grins and continues, "I'd invite you all. Drink on me of course." As Satrou's invitation lingered in the air, you noticed Shoko's ears perk up. Her curiosity was piqued, a subtle lift of her eyebrows betraying her interest. You bit your tongue, the taste of reluctance sharp against your teeth. The idea of going anywhere with Satrou was far from appealing, but knowing your friends might join made it harder to outright refuse.

You crossed your arms defensively, leaning back slightly as you fixed Satrou with a skeptical look. "And why would you want me there?"

Satrou's lips curled into a half-smirk, his eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint."You're annoying, I'll give you that," He took a casual step closer, and leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "but I never said you weren't fun."

His words, intended to irk you, did their job well. You glared at him sharply, the frustration evident in your furrowed brows and the hard set of your jaw.

Satrou chuckled.

“Great, I’ll take that as a yes then, I'll text you guys the details.” He turns around to walk out of the classroom. “See you guys there!”

There was a silence as you all watched Satrou walk away before Haibara turns to look at you. “So are you going to go y/n? Come on it will be so much fun!”

“Yeah no way in hell.”

~ You were a liar. You were a liar because here you were, leaning over the counter of a bar in a club that was far from "small." The nightclub was a pulsing, chaotic hive of activity. Neon lights flashed in syncopation with the deafening throb of electronic dance music that shook the very air. The club was jam-packed with bodies moving rhythmically, the heat from the mass of humanity palpable as the scent of sweat and sweet perfumes mingled. The bar surface was sticky under your arms, and the occasional spill from a too-hastily poured drink added to the chaos of sounds and smells around you. You lazily stirred the thin red straw into your drink, trying to politely ignore the creep who wouldn't stop talking to you.

Somehow, in the maze of gyrating bodies and blinding strobe lights, you had lost both Shoko and Haibara, leaving you stranded at the mercy of this clueless conversationalist. Despite the roar of bass and the chatter of dozens of conversations, his words seemed to bore into your ears, relentless and unyielding. He leaned in closer than necessary, trying to make himself heard over the club's cacophony, not realizing or perhaps not caring, that you were more interested in plotting an escape than in anything he had to say. "And might I say you look gorgeous tonight." It took everything you had not to scoff at this creep's words, but before you should shut the man down, you felt an arm wrap around you. "Everything alright love?" Oh god. You knew that voice anywhere. As you turned, you were met by Satrou's piercing blue eyes, their color vivid even behind stylish rectangular sunglasses. The multicolor flashing lights overhead caught in the threads of Satrou’s light blue button-up, making it shimmer subtly, and the fabric clung just right to his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the well-defined physique beneath. You hated the fact that your brain immediately noted how damn good he looked. His arm was wrapped around your waist drawing you close and you had to bite your tongue from frowning at the pet name he had given you As he leaned in, his voice was low, a soft murmur over the noise of the club, "This guy bothering you baby?" His tone was teasing, and you could detect the challenge in it, as if daring you to admit that his closeness and pet names affected you just as much as he knew it did. "Of course I'm fine baby!" You smile brightly and for a second you think Satrou looked a bit taken aback. If playing along got you out of this situation so be it. "This guy, I'm sorry, what's your name?" You glance back at the creep who had turned bright red. "I'm sorry, excuse me." You watched as the man disappeared into the throng of the bustling crowd, your attention fixed until he was well out of sight. Only then did you turn back to Satrou, the false warmth on your face instantly transforming into a cold, hard glare.

"Thanks for that, but you can get your hand off me now," you said, your voice icy as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. Despite your efforts, Satrou’s grip on your waist remained firm, unyielding.

"And why should I? I think we made a fantastic couple," Satrou cooed, a teasing lilt in his voice. His eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the moment far more than you.

You rolled your eyes, exasperation seeping through. "You really think I would fall for something like that?"

"Why? Did you?" he probed further, his smile widening, eyes searching yours for any sign of genuine affect. Anger started to boil up inside you as your attempts to escape his grasp remained futile.

"I don't think you understand the dynamic here very well, Satoru," you began, your voice low and deliberate, each word punctuated for emphasis. You stepped closer, invading his space as much as he had invaded yours, your eyes never leaving his. "Let me make this crystal clear, I'm not someone you can just fucking conquer, and I'm certainly not one of those girls who's gonna kiss the ground you walk on with your whole 'I'm the strongest' act," you seethed.

Your face was mere inches from his now, your breath mingling, the tension palpable. "Because I know what you really are, Satrou," you hissed, the anger in your voice barely contained. "You're a fucking douche bag." "Oh? Is that so."

Satrou's expression shifted subtly, the amusement fading into something more measured, more cautious. He studied you for a moment and you took the chance to wiggle out of his grasp and make your way through the crowd on the dance floor toward the door. The beat of the music pounds in your ears and throughout your body making your synapses jump like beans in a tin can. You can barely see the floor, only flashes of bodies you frantically tried to push past. Before you can make it to the back door, a hand grips your wrist tightly enough to halt your forward rush. Above the din of the pulsating music and amidst the strobe-lit shadows of dancing figures, Satoru's face comes into view. You feel your breath catch in your throat. God his is beautiful. Strobe lights catch and accent every one of his sharp features alighting them in a multicolor color hue. He pulls your wrist to him so you're close, too close. You can smell the old spice shampoo from his hair mixed in with some sort of sweet cologne. It's a smell that makes you want to bury your nose into him over and over again. "Jesus fucking Christ y/n" he breathed his eyes searching yours. "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?" You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so

“I-fuck you” the words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.

“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and his eyes are soft. Fuck it. You can no longer hear the lyrics to whatever song was playing, only a soft dull hum of the beat in your ears. Immediately your lips are on his. The kiss is frantic, hot, messy. The club's pulse thrummed through you like a second heartbeat, the noise and chaos all but forgotten in the singular focus of his presence. You could feel one of his large hands on the small of your back, drawing you in until there was no space left between the both of you. Your mouths clashed against each other as if you were both seeking something vital, something long-denied. Satoru's lips were insistent against yours, moving with a fervor that matched the pounding bass surrounding you. You whined as his tongue slipped into your mouth, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the firm press of his chest against yours. The scent of his cologne mixed with the smoky air around us, intoxicating and heady.

Your mouths separated with a soft pop, and Satoru is grinning while you're left dazed, breath heavy and chests rising and falling after it. "How bout you say we get out of here Princess."Gojo's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your ear as you broke from the intense kiss.

Before you could even respond, a dizzying rush enveloped you. The loud club vanished in an instant, replaced by the quiet, dimly lit ambiance of his bedroom. You were suddenly on his bed, the soft duvet beneath you a stark contrast to the hard dance floor we'd just left. Right, he can teleport. You forgot about that. Wait was he... where are you going to... Before you can get a word in, he’s once again engulfing your lips with his and pulling you into a feverish kiss in which the two of you can’t seem to get enough of each other. The moment one pulls away to breathe, the other is immediately searching for their lips again; intertwining tongues and teeth clashing together recklessly.

Your hot, everything is hot, your body is burning up by the second and there’s a sickly sweet feeling in your stomach that keeps on expanding as time passes. You whine into his mouth when you feel a hand slip under your skirt and lightly trace the outline of your slit with his index finger. You're painfully wet; your arousal has made a large spot on your underwear translucent. “Just touch me,’ you whined, arching impatiently against his hand. He couldn’t make either of you wait any longer. Slowly, he brought his middle finger down and slid it gently over her folds. You threw your head back. "Ahhhh, more please." He did it again, this time his fingertip slipping between and gathering your wetness. He parted you with two fingers. You let out a gasp when he hit your clit and started to rub it in small circles. You tried to say something, anything to explain how hot you were feeling right now, but your words were lost against his soft lips. The taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him so close against you, skin to skin. Time and space had no meaning anymore. There was only you and Satrou.

“You feeling good baby? Satrou speaks slowly, breath on your neck and voice in your ear making you shiver. You bite your lip and nod like any words that came from you would ruin it. You almost wince when you feel two fingers slip into your tight hole. "Jesus, fuck. You gotta relax princesses." He chuckled, knowing far to well that the tightness was going to feel delicious around him. Two fingers worked into you, and your eyes rolled back into your head. He began a steady rhythm as his tongue nipped and sucked the tender skin of your neck. You couldn’t prevent her hips from rising to meet his thrusts. Oh God, you were riding his hand. That had to be bad. You told herself to stop. You couldn’t. Somehow, you found your hands tangled in his short white hair. Your body was coiled tighter, grasping at his fingers, so wet now you could hear the slippery sounds every time he drove back into you. "Hnghhh.... so good." You squeezed your eyes type, becoming focused on the tightening feeling of your core and the blossoming warm pleasure. Your legs started to tremble under the unbearable pleasure and your back arched against the bed as if your body was trying to escape the euphoric feeling that coursed through your skin. "That’s it, fuck, beautiful girl... such a natural submissive...." You want to tell him he's wrong, all this pleasure wasn't because of his egotistic ass, but it'd be a lie. And as if on command, all feelings come to a heightened crescendo; explosions of euphoria clouding your brain causing your toes to curl from pleasure and your body to shake like a leaf.

It takes a couple seconds after you calmed down to realize you squirted all over Satoru's hand and all blood rushes to your face turning you a bright red.

“Oh my god in so sorry I didn’t-”

Your voice dies out as you watch Satrou pull off his shirt, revealing his extremely built body and toned muscles, to wipe the liquid off his hand. You don’t even notice that he had pulled out his dick until you feel something pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so. Your stomach inwardly twisted, filled with the sickly excitement and your breathing started to quicken. "Shhhhh baby," Satoru cups your cheek and kisses your forehead. It was a sweet gesture despite everything happening right now, a gesture that made your heart swell and your mind yearn for Satoru. The stretch of his dick spreading your walls is insane. No amount of preparation could've prepared you for the length of Satoru's dick. You feel it heavy inside you and Satrou pushes into you until he can't push anymore, until his hips are flush against you and the tip of his length is smushed against your cervix. The pleasure of that alone felt numb, unbearable, you needed friction, you needed him to move. You practically faint when he first thrusts into you in earnest. It's euphoric; the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up. His cock pulsed inside of your silky walls, stretching you to the fullest capacity as he bottomed out again and again. "Oh fuck." Satrou groaned. He was no longer grinning, Satoru's playful resolves vanished and his smile quickly dropped. He knew you'd feel good, but he didn't expect how good you'd feel. The feeling of his hand he had fucked himself to the thought of you for so many nights was nothing compared to the real thing. It was too much, the feeling of your wet soft walls gripping him so tightly. How was he able to live without your pussy in the first place? The pleasure built rapidly, too potent, too insistent. He kneeled over you, a groan escaping his lips—a raw, primal sound that vibrated through the charged air between you. Satorus thrust your quick and hard, a clear display of strength and endurance he had gained from years of jujutsu training. "Been thinking about this, so long, bet you have to have ya~"

As Satrou's long, deliberate fingers encircle your neck, a thrilling chill races down your spine. He applies pressure gently at first, then with a firmer, insistent grip that gradually restricts your airflow, sending a wave of exhilaration through your senses. The world around you narrows, focusing intently on the point where his skin contacts yours, heightening every other sensation that courses through you. His other hand slips under your bra bra to grab and massage your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipples.

"Satoru..! Ahhhh..! I..I, fuckkkkk can't handle this.." You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with his hand squeezing your throat it was just all too much.

Satoru. Satoru. Satoru

"Slow down.. please im gonna ahhhh~" Drool slipped passed your lips and you writhed and squirmed at the feeling of hot euphoria passed over your body in flesh arrow. "Gonna cum? Fuck baby, let's... let's come together m'kay?" Satrou almost stuttered. His body had kicked into autopilot, and a deep primal need for you settled in as he thrust in and out, creating a methodical rhythm that echoed in your ears. Your ankles lock around his lower back and you cry out when the head of his cock kisses your womb, your legs shaking as you feel yourself start to be thrown into an intense orgasm. You want to say something about the weird feeling in your stomach, how your skin is buzzing but it's all too much, and before you know it your tumbling toward the edge. It feels like your whole body was shot with electricity and color dances in your eyes as you float in ecstasy.

"Sh-Shit, shit, fuuuuck~" He chuckles into your ear, choking over his words as his hips sputter inside of you, hot cum fills you as much as you can hold inside of your stuffed cunny. Satoru doesn't pull out as you both come down from your high, instead watching you intently as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Wanna do this again?" He chuckles.

"Fuck, yes, please."

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojou satoru x reader

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foolinafable · 5 months ago

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your wildest dream, his nightmare

Five Hargreeves x Reader Synopsis: Walking into Max’s diner as a respite after you and Five are seemingly stuck you don’t think you could’ve imagined a better outcome surrounded by various versions of your lover. At the same time, for him it’s nothing more than a bad dream he hopes will end soon. Word count: 760 Tags: Fluff, Jealous Five, Crackfic Note: This small fic because it's funny to imagine jealous Five being jealous of himself

“Come on”

Five grabbed your hand as he led you out of the tube to, probably, another timeline. It must have been a few hours the two of you had been stuck in this place going station to station still with no idea how to get back.

You turned left but instead of being greeted with the usual blankness for Five to scribble about in his notebook you instead were somewhat blinded by the light of a sign.

‘Max’s delicatessen.’ You made eye contact with Five to the side of you before tilting your head with a nod towards the building. He simply followed your lead before quickly grabbing the door to let you in first.

You turned back to smile in thanks when you noticed his shocked expression, head quickly turned back towards the diner at a call of your name to see the whole diner was made up of your lover. Looking back to Five, your Five, in bewilderment a shocked smile on your face.

The look on your face seemed to take him out of his stupor clearing his throat before leading you into the diner- trying to find an empty table for you to sit at. He was quickly stopped by another Five, one sat on his own, and gestured for the two of you to sit opposite him. Five begrudgingly agreed as he realised the restaurant was at max capacity. No spare table in sight.

You quickly shuffled onto the brown bench when the other Five spoke

“It’s rare to see one of you around here” he smiled happy to see you

“Maybe this is not my typical scene” you rebutted a cheeky smile on your face that the Five opposite you seemed to enjoy, dimple now showing from smiling so wide

“Maybe” he breathed out in a laugh

Before you could continue to speak with this version of Five another one appeared in front of you, this one not wearing a suit or vest. He quickly placed down a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich in front of your Five. He then turned to you placing a very familiar drink in front of you

“Your favourite” he declared when you looked confused

“How did you know?” You smiled at him eyebrows furrowing as his cheeks went red

“We all know your favourites” he shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world

“Um- Thanks” you nodded your head in gratitude

“Anything for the missus” he mumbled before leaving to go back to the kitchen

You took a sip of your drink when your Five spoke irritated “What was that about?” a hand possessively stroking at your thigh

“A lot of us having seen our version of her in a long time” the other Five spoke wistfully

“How sad” you stated before turning around in your seat you waved and greeted the Fives around you who all became quite delighted at your attention all greeting you with a similar bravado.

“Okay.” Five declared “I think we are done here” he quickly at up pulling you up with him by grabbing hold of your hand once more

“But we just got here, can’t we stay a little longer and rest?” you asked not wanting to leave. I mean why would you, surrounded by multiple versions of the man who loved you, say no to having his attention on you?

“No, we need to get back to my family in our timeline, come on. We are wasting time.” he rebutted practically pulling you away from the diner seemingly getting even more annoyed as the other Fives shouted goodbyes towards you.

“I didn’t realise I was so annoying, that was a nightmare” Five claimed as you sat on a train hopefully taking you back home

“Sure you weren’t jealous?” you quipped staring at him mischievously

“No” he grumbled arms crossing against his chest

“Then you won’t mind if I-” you spoke moving towards the doors to go back to the diner, quickly shutting up when Five grabbed your hands pulling you back onto the seat beside him. You simply smiled at his look of false ire towards you as the train started to move. Resting your head on his shoulder as he let a smile grace his features giving a kiss to the top of your head.

You hope that at some point you will get to return to the diner- a place you have just coined akin to heaven on earth.

#five imagine #five x reader #five #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five #tua x you #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua s4

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mischievousmoony · 5 months ago

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hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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rootedinrevisions · 16 days ago

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Worth More than Gold

SUMMARY: Glen Powell has asked you, his long-time friend and secret crush to be his date to the Golden Globes. The evening is filled with glitz, glamour, and the intoxicating spark of possibilities - both on the red carpet and behind the scene. And at the end of the day Glen may not have won the Golden Globe, but he just might have won something better—you.

A/N: Glen's look at the Golden Globes did things to me and gave me so many ideas. This will probably be the last fic I do for the GG and I'm going to try to get back on track with my WIPs and Requests.

As always I'd love to hear what you guys think! I love seeing your comments and reblogs! I seriously smile and get all giddy like a little kid when I get a notification from you guys so please let me know what I think.

WORD COUNT: 10.8k

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The hotel room was a whirlwind of chaos, a perfect reflection of Glen’s pre-event energy. The plush carpet was littered with tissue paper from a last-minute gift delivery, a shoe box sat abandoned near the bed, and the sleek black tie Glen had decided to forego tonight was somehow draped over a lampshade.

Glen himself was in the middle of the room, pacing in socks and dress pants, his phone pressed to his ear. “Listen, I’m just saying, Texas football isn’t a sport—it’s a religion,” he declared, his Texas drawl warming the edges of his words. “And if the Longhorns take the game against Ohio State this week, we’re coming for that national title.”

He paused, evidently listening to the journalist on the other end of the call, then grinned as he gestured animatedly with his free hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know you want to talk about the nomination. But did you see last weekend’s game? That last play in the second overtime?”

Across the room, you sat curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone but only half-paying attention to the screen. Watching Glen charm his way through an interview about his career or recent projects while managing to somehow steer the conversation to Texas football was nothing new.

“Cufflinks,” said Warren, the stylist ensuring Glen looked red-carpet ready. Warren stood to the side, arms crossed with the patience of someone who’d dealt with a dozen “Glen Powells” before.

“They’re in the pocket of your tux,” you called without looking up, your voice laced with playful exasperation. “Right where I told you I put them earlier.”

Glen froze mid-gesture, patting down his pants pocket first before moving to his jacket. When his fingers closed around the cufflinks, he shot you a sheepish grin.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he mouthed, before turning his attention back to his call. “Listen, I gotta wrap this up. Can I call you tomorrow and we’ll finish this?” he asked the journalist.

With that, he hung up and turned to the room, raking a hand through his neatly-styled hair. “You believe this?” He said, grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’m on deadline and trying to get out the door for one of the biggest nights of my life. And GQ wants to talk about…wardrobe and clothes and who I’m wearing.”

Warren arched a brow, adjusting the velvet Armani jacket on its hanger. “Wardrobe is why I’m here, Glen,” he said with a grin. “Now, if you could refrain from wrinkling this masterpiece, we might actually get you to the event looking like a winner.”

You snorted, rising from the couch. “Poor you,” you teased, brushing imaginary lint off your own shirt. “Must be so hard being adored by millions while wearing designer clothes.”

Glen rolled his eyes and snorted, stepping closer as the stylist fussed with his cummerbund. “Hey, I’m counting on you to keep me sane tonight,” he said, half-serious as he began to tug at the cuffs of his shirt. “You’re my buffer.”

“Buffer?” you repeated, arching a brow. “That’s what I’m here for? Not moral support—just as a human barrier between you and Hollywood?”

“Exactly,” he deadpanned, his grin widening. “You’re overqualified for the job, though.”

You stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint from his shirt, your fingers moving with practiced ease over the slick fabric. Glen watched you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Okay, be honest,” he said, tilting his chin slightly. “One button or two undone? What’s the vibe tonight?”

You paused, letting your gaze drop to the open collar of his shirt, catching a glimpse of the chest hair peeking out.

“One,” you said decisively, reaching up to fasten the second button. “Two buttons undone is too much chest hair. You’re going to a red carpet, not auditioning for a ‘70s cop show.”

He laughed, the rich sound filling the room as he placed his hands on his hips. “Hey, my chest hair is a crowd-pleaser,” he countered, feigning offense. “You don’t know how many compliments I’ve gotten on this chest.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a laugh. “Please never say that to me again.”

He leaned in slightly, his grin widening. “Admit it. You’re just jealous you can’t pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a playful tug. “Oh, please. If I wanted to show off chest hair, I’d buy a faux-fur vest and call it a day.”

“Savage,” he said, clutching his chest as though you’d wounded him. “You’ve got jokes tonight, huh?”

“Somebody has to keep your ego in check,” you replied, stepping back to inspect your work. “And you make it so easy.”

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he tugged at the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, I’ll have you know, Warren said I was rocking this look,” he said, gesturing toward the stylist, who was busy folding tissue paper into one of the garment bags.

Warren didn’t even look up. “Warren also said to stop touching your shirt or you’ll wrinkle it,” he replied dryly, earning a snort from you and an exaggerated groan from Glen.

“Fine,” Glen said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “No more touching. But if I get to the carpet and I’m not turning heads, I’m blaming you.”

“Oh, you’ll turn heads,” you said, crossing your arms and giving him a once-over. “If not for the suit, then definitely for whatever ridiculous sound bite you give on the carpet. You’re physically incapable of being boring, remember?”

He grinned, stepping closer so the space between you was almost nonexistent. “Is that a compliment?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly.

You tilted your head, refusing to let him win. “Don’t get used to it, Cowboy.”

“Ah, there it is,” he said, leaning back with a laugh. “The nickname. I knew it was coming.”

You shrugged. “If the boots fit…”

Glen slid the custom velvet Armani tux jacket over his broad shoulders, the deep midnight-black fabric catching the light in subtle, luxurious waves. He tugged at the lapels, ensuring everything was sitting perfectly, before stepping back with an air of casual confidence.

“Well?” he asked, doing a quick spin on his heels, arms spread out theatrically. “What do you think? Too much? Not enough?”

You leaned back slightly, arms crossed, pretending to appraise him critically, but your expression betrayed you. Your eyes swept over him, taking in every detail—the sharp tailoring that hugged his frame perfectly, the structured cut of the jacket emphasizing his frame, and the way the silk shirt beneath hinted at the faintest trail of chest hair.

The stylist had done a remarkable job on his hair, taming the usual tousled locks into something sleek yet effortlessly natural. And the stubble—God, the stubble. He hadn’t bothered to shave completely, leaving just enough scruff to lend him a rugged edge that, if you were honest, made him look even more attractive.

The all-black ensemble was a bold choice, but it worked. The mix of textures—the smooth silk of the shirt, the luxurious velvet of the jacket, and the matte sheen of the tailored trousers—created a look that was polished yet unmistakably Glen.

“You clean up nice,” you finally said, a teasing smile pulling at your lips as you took him in from head to toe. “I mean, you almost look like a proper gentleman.”

“Almost?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow as he turned back toward the mirror, pretending to check himself out.

“Well, the stubble kind of ruins the whole gentleman thing,” you quipped, biting back a laugh.

“Ruin it?” Glen turned to face you again, his voice dripping with mock offense. “The stubble is the pièce de résistance, thank you very much.” He ran a hand over his jaw, grinning when he saw the way your gaze briefly followed the movement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your composure. “Sure it is. But seriously, you look good, Glen. The best I’ve seen you look in a while.”

For a moment, his grin softened, and his eyes caught yours. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied, more sincerely this time. “You’re going to knock ‘em dead tonight.”

He held your gaze for a beat longer than usual, something unreadable flickering in his expression before he broke the moment with his signature charm. “Well, I have to. You’re the one who’ll have to be seen with me all night. Can’t embarrass you on your first red carpet.”

You glanced at the clock and froze. Less than an hour until you were supposed to be ready and out the door. Helping Glen finish getting ready had been fun—maybe a little too fun, you realized now, as time ticked away faster than you’d expected.

“I need to go get ready,” you said abruptly, stepping back and pointing toward the door.

Glen smirked, his hands casually adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Go on, Cinderella. Clock’s ticking.”

Without another word, you bolted for your room next door, already running through a mental checklist of what needed to happen to make yourself red carpet-ready in under an hour. Once inside, you kicked the door shut behind you and headed straight for the bathroom. Flicking on the light, you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Okay. Hair. Makeup. Dress. You could do this. Right?

You pulled your hair loose from the lazy ponytail it had been in all day, raking your fingers through it and trying to decide if it would look better up or down. Your eyes darted to the neckline of the dress still hanging on the back of the closet door, but you didn’t have time to figure out how to make everything match. You groaned, pressing your hands to your face.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Hello?” you called out, cautiously heading toward the door and cracking it open.

Standing there were two members of Glen’s glam squad—one holding a bag of makeup brushes and palettes, the other with a small suitcase of hair tools.

“Mr. Powell asked us to check on you,” the makeup artist said with a kind smile. “He thought you might be running behind.”

You blinked at them, momentarily speechless. “He... sent you?”

The hairstylist nodded. “He figured you might need a little help. Mind if we come in?”

You stepped aside to let them in, still processing Glen’s uncanny ability to predict you’d be panicking. “Sorry about the mess,” you admitted, glancing at the clock again. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Don’t worry,” the makeup artist said, already setting up her supplies on the bathroom counter. “We’ve got this. Can we see the dress? It’ll help us figure out the best look for you.”

You grabbed the garment bag from the closet and unzipped it, revealing the dress inside. You’d picked it out weeks ago, but standing there now, you suddenly second-guessed everything about it.

The hairstylist tilted his head thoughtfully, taking in the neckline and cut. “With this neckline, I’d suggest pulling your hair up—something elegant but not overdone. It’ll show off your shoulders and collarbone beautifully.”

You nodded, trusting his expertise. “That sounds perfect.”

“And for makeup,” the other stylist added, “we’ll keep it timeless—focus on your eyes, a little shimmer, and a soft lip. Nothing too bold, just enough to complement the dress and the hair.”

“Let’s do it,” you said, exhaling as you sat down.

With practiced efficiency, they got to work. The hairstylist began gathering your hair into an elegant style that framed your face while showcasing the neckline of the dress. Meanwhile, the makeup artist brushed soft gold tones onto your lids, added a touch of liner to define your eyes, and blended everything seamlessly. A quick swipe of lipstick finished the look.

You watched the transformation in the mirror, the tension slowly melting from your shoulders. By the time they stepped back to admire their handiwork, you felt like a completely different person.

“Done in thirty minutes, just like we promised,” the hairstylist said with a grin.

You stood, giving them both a grateful smile. “Thank you. Seriously, I wouldn’t have made it without you—or Glen, apparently.”

The makeup artist laughed. “He seemed pretty confident you’d need backup. Smart guy.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, thinking about his effortless charm and how much he looked out for you. “He really is.”

After the hairstylist and makeup artist left, you stood in front of the full-length mirror, a deep breath escaping your lips. You could do this.

You reached for the dress, still hanging from its garment bag, and carefully unzipped it. The soft fabric slid through your fingers as you pulled it off the hanger, feeling a flutter of nerves as you held it up in front of you.

The dress was simple, yet elegant, hugging every curve in a way that made you second-guess your choice. But it was beautiful.

With your heart racing a little, you slipped the dress on. You paused to glance at the mirror as you tugged the fabric up your body, hoping everything would fall into place.

But it didn’t.

The zipper snagged halfway up your lower back. You tugged a little harder, but it didn’t budge. Panic settled in your chest. You didn’t want to rip the fabric or make a scene, but there was no way to finish getting ready if you couldn’t zip the dress.

Your fingers fumbled for your phone, dialing Glen’s number before you could think twice. The seconds ticked by slowly, and your nerves only heightened with every ring.

“Hey, it’s me,” you said the moment he answered. Your voice trembled slightly despite your best efforts to sound calm. “I need help. The zipper on the dress is stuck, and I can’t get it up.”

“Don’t worry, I’m coming right over,” Glen’s voice was calm, reassuring. You could almost hear the smile in his tone.

The call ended quickly, and before you knew it, there was a soft knock at your door. You quickly pulled the front of the dress to your chest and peeked out, your eyes meeting Glen’s as you opened the door just a crack. His presence was as commanding as ever, but now, standing there, you felt exposed.

“Hey,” you greeted him, offering a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, raising an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to step inside.

As he entered, you turned, giving him full view of the situation. The dress clung tightly to your body, and you were sure your back looked exposed in the tight fabric. A slight blush crept across your cheeks as your fingers instinctively tugged at the fabric.

“Relax,” Glen said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved behind you and gently grasped the zipper.

After a few tugs and a bit of effort, he managed to get it unstuck, smoothly pulling it the rest of the way up. The dress fit perfectly once it was zipped all the way.

Glen stepped back with a satisfied nod, patting your hip gently. “All good. You’re all set now.”

You took a deep breath, your nerves slightly eased but still there. With a nervous smile, you smoothed the front of your dress down, trying to calm yourself before glancing back at him.

“Do I look okay?” you asked quietly, suddenly unsure of how you appeared.

Glen gave you a slow once-over, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer than you expected. Then, his lips curved into a soft smile.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “Seriously. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tension in your chest easing. Glen’s words meant more than you realized, and as he gave you that smile, it felt like everything was finally falling into place.

Once you were fully ready, feeling the weight of the evening ahead, Glen offered you a reassuring smile as he adjusted his jacket one last time. He gave you a soft nod, signaling that it was time to go.

Together, you left the suite, the sound of your heels echoing in the hallway as you walked side by side toward the elevator. Glen pressed the button, standing close enough to be a silent but steady presence. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he moved—like he was born to own every room he entered, even though his demeanor was always so grounded.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Glen stepped aside, letting you enter first. When you reached the lobby, the bustle of the hotel faded in comparison to the calm, quiet space Glen seemed to create around the two of you. He was the kind of person who moved with purpose, but never rushed—always thoughtful, always present.

As you made your way toward the entrance, he gave a quiet wave to a few people who greeted him, but he kept his focus on you, his hand close to your lower back as if guiding you through the crowd.

Outside, a sleek black car waited by the curb, the driver standing at attention. Glen held the door open for you with a courteous nod, his hand outstretched to assist you into the back seat.

You smiled, appreciating the little things—his attention to detail, the way he never made you feel like you were inconveniencing him. You slid into the seat, and as you did, Glen quickly followed, settling next to you with a quiet grace that was all him.

The driver closed the door, and the car began to move smoothly through the streets, the city lights reflecting off the tinted windows. The buzz of the evening began to settle into a comfortable rhythm, and Glen turned his attention to you with a soft look.

“You ready for this?” he asked, his tone light but sincere. He glanced down at your dress, the slight gleam in his eyes making you feel all the more seen. “You’re gonna turn heads tonight, no doubt about it.”

You smiled, trying to play it cool, but his words still made your stomach flutter. “I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady.

The car glided through the streets, the hum of the engine and the soft clink of the streetlights outside giving you a sense of distance from the chaos of the night ahead. Your fingers nervously drummed on the fabric of your dress, your gaze flickering from the passing city lights to the reflection of yourself in the window.

Glen noticed the subtle tension in your posture and the way your fingers twitched, like they couldn’t quite settle. His sharp eyes, attuned to every little shift in your mood, moved over to you. He shifted closer, his hand reaching across the space between you with ease, brushing lightly over your fingers before gently taking your hand in his.

"You're going to be fine," he said, his voice low, teasing but gentle, as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. His thumb brushed the back of your hand, smoothing away any remnants of tension. "Just smile and wave, Penguin. You’ve got this."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, the warmth of his hand in yours bringing a little bit of ease. “Penguin?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow, feeling the tension in your shoulders release with that soft chuckle.

He grinned at you, the kind of smile that melted any nervous edge. “Yeah, Penguin. You know—Madagascar. Smile and wave boys. Smile and wave.” He gave your hand a playful tug, the humor in his eyes lighting up.

You shook your head, but the tension you’d carried with you slowly began to melt. Glen had that way about him—without even trying, he made things feel easy, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. His confidence was infectious, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that you could pull this off.

The car hit a smooth turn, the soft hum of the tires filling the silence. You glanced at Glen, his easy grin still in place, his hand steady in yours. There was something about his presence—something grounding, comforting. Without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as you let the last bits of tension drain away.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Glen glanced down at you, his expression softening. He didn’t move, didn’t shift away—he just stayed still, letting you rest there. His thumb continued its soothing motion across the back of your hand, and he tilted his head slightly toward yours.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice warm and steady. "You know I’ve got you."

For a moment, the world outside the car faded away. It was just the two of you, a quiet moment that reminded you why Glen was your best friend. His support, his calm energy—it was all you needed to take a deep breath and believe in yourself again.

As the car slowed to a stop, signaling your arrival at the red carpet, you felt ready. Maybe it was the way Glen always knew how to bring you back to yourself, or maybe it was just the fact that he was there beside you, exactly where he always seemed to be when you needed him most.

You stole a quick glance at Glen, catching the way his gaze softened as he looked back at you, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours.

“Hey,” he said, the tone shifting just a little, serious but with the same undertone of care. “You’re gonna be great, okay? And if you need me to do anything, I’m right here. Just... be you.”

Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, a reassuring pressure that grounded you, and you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

The driver opened the door, and the bright lights of the red carpet began to stretch ahead of you, already swirling with flashes and faces, the hum of excitement palpable in the air. Glen leaned toward you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing the smooth skin of your neck.

“You’re gonna shine tonight,” he said quietly, his voice filled with confidence, making you believe it for the first time.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then flashed him a grin. “Thanks, Glen.”

He winked. “Anytime, Penguin. Let’s go make some memories.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, Glen’s hand still firmly in yours, ready to face whatever the night would bring—with him by your side, you felt ready for anything.

The roar of the red carpet hit you the moment you stepped out of the car. A wall of flashing lights and the constant hum of voices calling out names created a dizzying cacophony. For a second, you froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The chaos seemed endless, but Glen’s steady hand on the small of your back was the anchor you needed.

“Stay close,” he said quietly, his voice warm and reassuring, almost lost in the noise. He guided you forward with a gentle pressure, his touch never faltering.

Reporters shouted his name, cameras clicked furiously, and fans called out from behind the barriers. Glen’s demeanor shifted effortlessly, the easy confidence you admired about him coming to life under the scrutiny. But even as he navigated the chaos like a pro, his focus never strayed far from you.

When a particularly eager photographer stepped too close, Glen instinctively pulled you in, lacing your arm through his. The motion was protective yet natural, as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “You doing okay so far?”

You nodded, the nerves still simmering but far less overwhelming with Glen beside you. “Yeah. It’s just... a lot.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers giving your arm a light squeeze. “It’s always a lot. Just keep smiling and don’t trip. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Moments later, you were ushered to the line of reporters waiting for interviews. Glen kept you close, his hand returning to your back as he led you toward the first microphone. The journalist’s attention immediately shifted to him, questions about his latest project firing off one after another.

“This is Glen Powell, looking dapper as always! Who’s your stunning guest tonight?” one reporter asked, her eyes flicking to you with interest.

Glen grinned, that signature charm lighting up his face. “This,” he said, his voice full of pride, “is the best friend who keeps me sane.” He glanced at you, his expression softening as if to emphasize his words.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as the reporter laughed. “Keeping Glen Powell on track sounds like a full-time job!”

“You have no idea,” you replied, finding your confidence in the moment. Glen chuckled beside you, his presence like a shield against the overwhelming spotlight.

The interviews continued, with Glen effortlessly steering the attention toward his projects while making sure you felt included. Whenever he wasn’t speaking, his hand either rested lightly on your back or your arm stayed looped through his. The gesture was subtle, but it kept you grounded, a quiet reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

In a rare lull between interviews, Glen turned to you, his expression softening as the frenzy of the red carpet seemed to momentarily fade into the background.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost drowned out by the noise around you.

You looked up at him, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of the evening.

“Hey,” you replied, a little breathless.

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of your updo from your face, his fingers lingering just slightly longer than necessary. His touch was light, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you. His eyes searched yours, the usual glint of mischief replaced with something quieter, more sincere. “You okay?”

The simple question held weight, as if he wasn’t just asking about the moment but something deeper. You nodded, your voice catching slightly as you said, “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, his hand dropping back to his side, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger. “Good. Can’t have my Penguin falling apart on me now.”

The moment hung between you, brief but charged with an unspoken connection that neither of you dared to address. Then the chaos of the red carpet surged back to life, pulling you both out of it.

“Ready to keep going?” Glen asked, his tone light again as he gestured toward the next line of reporters.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “Let’s do it.”

With your arm resting gently on his, Glen led you forward, his confidence bolstering your own. And as the night unfolded, you realized that no matter how overwhelming the evening became, you’d be okay—with Glen by your side.

The ballroom was a masterpiece of elegance, bathed in soft, golden light with tables draped in white linens and adorned with extravagant floral centerpieces. Each table bore name cards in ornate calligraphy, indicating an impressive roster of directors, actors, and other Hollywood heavyweights.

Glen pulled out your chair for you before taking his seat beside you, leaning in briefly to whisper, “You’ve got this. Just be yourself.”

You looked at Glen with a soft smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Powell.”

Within moments, the table began filling with familiar faces. To your left sat Richard Linklater himself, his unassuming charm making you feel more at ease than you’d expected. Across the table, a notable actress you’d only ever seen on-screen chatted animatedly with Glen, who was effortlessly charismatic as always.

“Glen,” Richard said with a warm smile, his Texan drawl coming through as he gestured toward you. “You didn’t introduce me to your lovely guest.”

Glen straightened, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as he turned to you. “Richard, this is the best friend who keeps me sane—and who’s also had to deal with my Dazed and Confused impression far too many times.”

You laughed lightly, shaking Richard’s hand. “It’s true. If I hear him say, ‘Alright, alright, alright,’ one more time, I might disown him.”

Richard chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “A classic never dies, though, does it?”

“I suppose not,” you conceded with a grin.

The quick banter caught the attention of the others at the table, who joined the conversation with playful remarks of their own. You held your own with ease, even managing to get a genuine laugh out of the actress across from you after a comment about the absurdity of some press junket questions.

Glen, sitting beside you, watched the exchanges with a kind of quiet pride, his gaze lingering on you whenever you spoke. At one point, he leaned closer, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re killing it. Remind me again—why am I not bringing you to all of these things?”

You smirked, taking a sip of water to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “Because you know I’d upstage you.”

“Touché,” he said with a soft laugh, nudging your shoulder playfully.

As the dinner continued, Glen made sure to include you in every conversation, subtly steering the spotlight toward you when someone asked about his current projects. You found yourself talking about Glen’s work ethic and how he somehow managed to juggle it all without losing his sense of humor.

“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” Richard observed with a knowing smile.

“I sure hope so after I’ve put up with him for all these years,” you replied, glancing at Glen. “Someone has to keep him humble.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Glen shook his head, though the unmistakable warmth in his expression betrayed how much he loved every second of it.

When dessert was served—an artfully plated creation that was almost too pretty to eat—Glen leaned in once more, his tone playful but sincere. “See? Told you you’d be great.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not bad for someone who almost didn’t make it out of the hotel room.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening, “you belong here, you know.”

The weight of his words settled between you, a quiet affirmation that carried more meaning than the playful banter that had preceded it. You nodded, the nerves you’d been holding onto finally beginning to ease.

The awards show was nothing short of spectacular, a seamless blend of glamour, artistry, and showmanship. The host kept the audience entertained with clever quips and light-hearted jokes, while presenters took the stage to announce the winners in a variety of categories. The room buzzed with energy as names were called, winners delivered heartfelt speeches, and cameras panned over the crowd of celebrities.

Sitting beside Glen, you couldn’t help but notice how his leg bounced slightly under the table, a telltale sign of his nerves. Despite the outward appearance of ease he projected, you knew him well enough to see through it. Every now and then, his hand brushed his jawline, the slight stubble catching the light, as he glanced at the stage and back at you with an almost imperceptible smile.

You leaned closer to him during a quieter moment. “How are you holding up?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the applause filling the room.

“Better with you here,” he replied, his tone casual but sincere. The weight of his words sent a gentle warmth through you, grounding you as much as it did him.

As the night progressed, Glen laughed at the host’s jokes and applauded the winners, though you could feel his anticipation building as his category grew closer.

The glitz and chatter around you seemed to blur as the presenter finally took the stage to announce the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Motion Picture - Musical or Comedy.

You felt Glen shift in his seat, his back straightening as his name was called alongside the other nominees. His hand brushed his thigh, and you noticed him take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out slowly. Instinctively, you leaned in just enough so your shoulder lightly pressed against his, a silent reminder that you were right there with him.

The presenter opened the envelope, the seconds stretching impossibly long. “And the award goes to... Sebastian Stan!”

The room erupted into applause as Sebastian rose from his seat, making his way to the stage. You clapped along with everyone else, but the knot of disappointment in your chest was impossible to ignore. Letting out a small, defeated breath, you glanced over at Glen.

He was smiling politely, clapping for Sebastian, but you saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. The kind of flicker only someone who truly knew him could catch. Others at the table offered their own words of encouragement, but Glen only nodded politely, his attention still half-focused on the stage.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your voice low and meant just for him. “You’re still the most talented guy in the room.”

You reached over, resting your hand gently on his knee under the table, offering him the kind of comfort words alone couldn’t provide. For a moment, his gaze dropped to your hand, then back to your face. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as his hand briefly covered yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of meaning.

Throughout the rest of the show, Glen leaned into your presence, subtly relying on you to keep him grounded. You noticed the way his body gradually relaxed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the night continued.

When another winner gave a particularly heartfelt speech, Glen turned to you with a quiet chuckle. “At least I don’t have to worry about tripping on the way to the stage.”

You laughed softly, the sound drawing out a more genuine smile from him. “See? There’s always a silver lining.”

By the time the final award was announced and the audience began filtering out of the theater, Glen seemed more at ease.

As the two of you stood to leave, he placed a hand on your back, guiding you through the crowd. “Thanks for keeping me sane tonight,” he said, his voice low but warm.

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the unspoken connection between you deepen as the evening came to a close.

The after-party was everything you expected it to be: glamorous, extravagant, and a little overwhelming. The main Golden Globes after-party felt less like a celebration and more like a carefully orchestrated networking event. The room was packed with A-list celebrities, producers, directors, and journalists, each armed with a drink in one hand and a carefully curated smile.

Music thumped in the background, but it barely registered over the hum of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Glen stayed by your side at first, introducing you to a few people here and there. You exchanged pleasantries with actors whose faces you recognized from the big screen and smiled politely at directors whose names you tried not to forget.

But before long, Glen was pulled away, whisked from one conversation to the next like the star of the evening. You watched as he posed for pictures, his easy charm making every interaction look effortless. He’d glance back at you occasionally, offering a reassuring smile or a quick wink, but you could tell even he was beginning to feel the strain of the crowd.

You nursed a drink at the edge of the room, trying to stay out of the way while still keeping Glen in your sights. It was easy to lose track of time amidst the chaos, but the constant flow of strangers and small talk started to take its toll. The energy in the room felt electric and draining all at once, and you found yourself wishing for a quieter corner to catch your breath.

After what felt like hours, Glen appeared at your side, his hand lightly brushing your arm to get your attention.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise around you. “This is… a lot, huh?”

You nodded, letting out a small laugh. “It’s a little overwhelming. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve smiled so much tonight my face might be stuck this way,” he joked, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He glanced around the room, then back at you. “What do you say we head to my party? I think I’ve shaken enough hands and posed for enough pictures to last a lifetime.”

The suggestion was like a lifeline, and you didn’t hesitate to agree. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Glen’s shoulders relaxed visibly at your answer, and he gave you a small, grateful smile. He offered you his arm, the gesture both protective and grounding as he guided you through the crowd toward the exit. Despite the noise and flashing cameras still lingering near the doorway, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as you stepped out into the cool night air.

The car ride to the rooftop bar was quiet, a welcome change from the chaos of the Golden Globes after-party. Glen leaned back against the seat, his shirt now unbuttoned to a second button and the faintest hint of exhaustion in his expression.

You glanced at him, smiling softly. “You know, most people would just go to bed after a night like this. Not go to another party.”

Glen chuckled, his head turning toward you. “What can I say? I’m not most people.”

When the car pulled up to the rooftop bar, Glen stepped out first, turning back to offer you his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go see everyone.”

The rooftop bar was stunning, its perimeter lined with fairy lights that cast a warm, golden glow. The city skyline sparkled in the distance, and the faint hum of music drifted through the air. Glen had rented the entire space, and as the two of you stepped inside, you were greeted by the cheerful buzz of conversation.

His parents were the first to spot you, their faces lighting up as they hurried over to greet Glen with warm hugs and congratulations.

His mom pulled you into an embrace as well, her voice filled with genuine affection. “You look stunning tonight, sweetheart. And thank you for taking care of our boy out there.”

“Always,” you replied with a smile, feeling the ease that came with being around Glen’s family.

You scanned the room and spotted Leslie, Glen’s younger sister, waving excitedly from across the bar. She was all smiles as she made her way over, throwing her arms around you in a hug.

“It’s been forever!” she exclaimed, pulling back to give you a once-over. “You look amazing! And that dress—ugh, you’re killing me.”

“You’re one to talk,” you teased, taking in her own dress. “You look incredible.”

Glen was quickly pulled into conversations with friends and other guests, his charm and warmth on full display as he moved through the room. You stayed behind with Leslie, the two of you settling into a quieter corner of the bar.

“So,” you said, leaning in conspiratorially. “Tell me everything about the engagement. I need details.”

Leslie’s face lit up, and she launched into a detailed recounting of the proposal—how her fiancé had asked, the secret planning, how he included her friends and family in on the surprise. She showed you the ring, a design that perfectly suited her, and the two of you gushed over wedding plans.

“I’m thinking late spring,” Leslie said, twirling her glass of wine between her fingers. “Something outdoors, simple but elegant. Glen keeps trying to offer to pay for everything, but I want to keep it low-key.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, smiling. “And knowing Glen, he’ll find a way to contribute whether you want him to or not.”

Leslie laughed, nodding. “Oh, I know. He’s the best, though. We’re lucky to have him.”

“Yeah, we really are.” Your gaze drifted across the room to where Glen was laughing with a small group of friends, his easy smile making your own lips curve upward. His hand was resting casually in the pocket of his suit pants.

“You’ve got that look again,” Leslie said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You blinked, snapping your gaze back to her. “What look?”

She grinned knowingly and nudged your arm with her elbow. “The ‘I’m totally into Glen but I’ll never admit it’ look.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “What? That’s ridiculous,” you said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “You’re crazy.”

“Uh-huh,” Leslie said, leaning back against the bar with a smirk. “Sure I am.”

You rolled your eyes, determined to brush off her teasing. “He’s my best friend, Les. That’s-” But before you could finish your sentence, Glen glanced over at the two of you. His eyes found yours across the room, and when he smiled—soft, warm, and undeniably genuine—you felt your words falter.

You didn’t even realize you had stopped speaking until Leslie let out a low chuckle.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, barely containing her laughter. “You’ve got it bad.”

Realizing what just happened, you tore your gaze away from Glen, your face burning.

“I do not,” you muttered, but the weak protest only made Leslie laugh harder.

She shook her head, her grin widening. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered. Honestly, I’ve suspected this for years, but that little moment right there? Total confirmation.”

“Okay, enough,” you said, waving your hands as if to physically push the conversation away. “Let’s focus less on your brother and my nonexistent love life. Let’s get back to your wedding.”

Leslie just smirked, clearly not buying your denial. “Fine, but for the record? He’s totally into you too.”

You gave Leslie a confused look, followed by a doubtful laugh. “Yeah, right?” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Leslie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your self-doubt. “Why do you think he wouldn’t be into you?” she asked, crossing her arms as if she were gearing up to debate.

You sighed, glancing down at your drink. “I mean…look at him,” you said, gesturing vaguely in Glen’s direction. “He could have literally anyone he wants. Models, actresses, anyone. And I’m just…” You trailed off, shrugging.

Leslie tilted her head, studying you with a knowing smile. “Just what?” she pressed.

“Just me,” you finished weakly, feeling a little silly for saying it out loud.

Leslie let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. Second of all—” She paused, leaning in slightly for emphasis. “You’re the one he asked to be his date tonight. Not a model, not an actress, you.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the truth of her words. “That’s just because we’re friends,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Friends,” Leslie repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Because friends definitely look at each other the way he looks at you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up again. “He does not look at me any type of way,” you insisted, but Leslie wasn’t buying it.

She smirked, nodding toward Glen, who was now making his way across the room in your direction.

“Sure he doesn’t,” she said, her voice teasing. “But just in case you’re still in denial, why don’t you pay attention when he gets over here? You’ll see what I mean.”

Before you could respond, Glen reached the two of you, his presence immediately drawing your attention.

“Hey,” he said, flashing that easy smile of his. “Am I interrupting something, or can I steal her for a bit?”

Leslie’s grin widened as she gave you a pointed look. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, stepping aside. “She’s all yours.”

You shot her a subtle glare, but Leslie just winked at you before turning to join the rest of the group. As Glen’s attention shifted back to you, your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do when he was around.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze flicking over your face as if checking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just catching up with Leslie.”

“Good,” he said, his smile softening. “She’s been excited to see you. I think she’s secretly more interested in hanging out with you than me tonight.”

You laughed, the sound helping to ease the tension swirling in your chest. “Well, to be fair, I am pretty great,” you teased, falling back into your usual banter with him.

“Can’t argue with that,” Glen said, his tone light, but there was something in his eyes that lingered a little too long, something that made your breath catch just slightly.

The atmosphere shifted subtly as the music transitioned to something slower, a beat just mellow enough to set a softer, almost romantic mood. The chatter in the room seemed to quiet slightly, replaced by the rhythmic sway of the melody. Glen glanced toward the small dance floor, where a few of his friends were starting to pair off, and then turned back to you.

“Come on,” he said, extending a hand toward you, his smile warm and inviting.

You shook your head immediately, taking a small step back. “You know I don’t dance,” you reminded him, your voice firm but playful.

His grin only widened, clearly undeterred. “And you know I don’t take no for an answer,” he teased, stepping closer and gently taking your hand before you could protest further.

“Glen,” you said, a hint of exasperation in your tone, but he was already pulling you toward the dance floor.

“Relax,” he said with a laugh, glancing back at you. “I’ll lead. All you have to do is follow.”

You sighed in resignation, realizing there was no escaping this. When you reached the dance floor, you placed a hand on his shoulder, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his dress shirt. He wrapped an arm securely around your waist, pulling you just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“You’ve done this before,” he said lightly as he started to guide you to the rhythm of the music.

“Once or twice,” you admitted, though you still felt slightly self-conscious. “But I’m warning you—I’m not great at it.”

“You’re doing fine,” he assured you, his voice low and steady, as if the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Leslie standing by the bar. She was watching you with an unmistakable smirk, her arms crossed in triumph. When your eyes met hers, she gave you a knowing look, the kind that said, See? Told you so.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head, trying to silently tell her to knock it off. Glen noticed the exchange, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced over at Leslie and then back down at you.

“What am I missing?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” you said quickly, though your cheeks were already starting to warm.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, his tone teasing now. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Leslie’s just…being Leslie,” you said vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.

But Glen wasn’t letting it go. He tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face as realization started to dawn on him.

“Wait a minute…” he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Is she messing with you about something?”

“Not really,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“Not really?” he repeated, clearly unconvinced. His eyes flicked back toward Leslie, who was now openly grinning at the two of you. “Oh, she’s definitely messing with you about something,” he said with a laugh.

You groaned, your head dropping slightly as you muttered, “I’m going to kill her.”

Glen chuckled, his hand on your waist giving a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he said, his tone playful but his smile soft.

For a moment, you forgot about Leslie entirely, your focus shifting back to Glen as you moved together in time with the music. His gaze lingered on you, his expression unexpectedly tender, and you felt your heart skip in a way that made you wonder if Leslie might actually have a point after all.

As the slower song faded out, you felt a moment of relief. But then the next song started, and your heart sank a little as the unmistakable notes of a love ballad filled the air. The kind that spoke of longing and intimacy, the kind that made you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you were still in Glen’s arms.

You glanced up at him, your lips parting to excuse yourself, but before you could step away, his hand on your back shifted, a gentle but deliberate pressure that kept you in place.

“Stay,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Glen, I—” you started, already shaking your head. There was no way you could dance to a love song with your best friend. It felt too…loaded.

“Just one more,” he murmured, and when your eyes met his, whatever protest you had ready fell away. There was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a friendly look. It was softer, deeper, and for a moment, it left you breathless.

You nodded, barely, and he smiled—just a small, private curve of his lips that made your stomach flip.

He pulled you just a little closer this time, close enough that your chest brushed against his. The hold on your back shifted, his hand sliding just slightly lower, resting at the curve where your back met your waist. It wasn’t inappropriate—just enough to feel a little less like friendship and a little more like something else.

Without thinking, you leaned into him, your cheek resting lightly against his chest. His warmth was comforting, grounding, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting yourself get lost in the rhythm of the song and the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

You felt him tilt his head, the faintest brush of his cheek against the top of yours. It was such a small gesture, but it sent your heart into a quiet frenzy, a rhythm that seemed to echo in time with the music.

Neither of you said a word as you moved together, swaying gently to the melody. The first verse passed, then the chorus, and you couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt to be here, like the rest of the world had melted away.

The song came to an end, the final notes fading into a hum of conversation and clinking glasses around you. Glen didn’t move right away, and for a moment, neither did you. You stayed in his arms, feeling the warmth of his hand still pressed against your back, the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.

But then someone called his name from across the room, breaking the fragile bubble that had surrounded you both. Glen’s arm slipped away, though his hand lingered on your elbow for a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly, his eyes lingering on yours, as if reluctant to leave.

You nodded, offering a small smile, and watched as he crossed the room to greet a new arrival. The absence of his touch left you feeling untethered, a sudden awareness of just how much you’d let yourself melt into him during that dance.

Needing a moment to collect yourself—and maybe something stronger than a moment of quiet—you made your way to the bar. You ordered a glass of wine and took a steadying sip, trying to push the last few minutes out of your mind.

Of course, Leslie found you before you even made it halfway through your drink.

“So,” she started, leaning casually against the bar with an unmistakable smirk. “That was…something.”

You rolled your eyes, though you could feel the blush already creeping up your neck. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” she asked innocently, though her grin was anything but. “I’m just saying, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother look at someone like that. Or hold someone like that. Or—”

“Leslie,” you warned, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at composure.

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “I’m just saying, for someone who insists she doesn’t dance, you looked awfully comfortable out there dancing with my brother.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you replied, taking another sip of your wine in a futile attempt to drown your nerves.

“Doesn’t it?” she countered, raising an eyebrow. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like something more.”

You shot her a sharp look, but she just shrugged, still grinning.

“Relax,” she said, nudging your arm playfully. “I’m not about to make a big announcement or anything. But if you don’t see it yet…” She trailed off, giving you a knowing look before gesturing subtly toward Glen, who was still across the room, laughing with a small group of friends.

You followed her gaze despite yourself, and your heart gave a traitorous little lurch at the sight of him. His smile was easy and charming, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward the bar, as if checking to see if you were still there.

“See what I mean?” Leslie said softly, pulling your attention back to her.

You shook your head, trying to play it off. “You’re reading into things.”

“Am I?” she challenged, her tone light but her expression serious. “Because I’ve known Glen my whole life, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. So, maybe it’s time you stop convincing yourself it’s all in your head.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and you found yourself speechless, staring down into your glass of wine as if it held the answers you were so desperately trying to avoid.

Leslie let the silence linger for a moment before giving your arm another playful nudge. “Just think about it, okay?”

And with that, she pushed off the bar and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts—and the undeniable truth you were no longer sure you could ignore.

You stepped away from the bar, glass of wine in hand, and gravitated toward a quieter corner of the rooftop. The laughter and conversation from the party grew softer with every step, the music fading into a pleasant hum in the background. A gentle breeze brushed against your skin as you approached the railing, the Los Angeles skyline glittering like a sea of stars before you.

You leaned against the cool metal and took a slow sip of your wine, your thoughts drifting back to Leslie’s words. Was she onto something? No, she couldn’t be. Glen was your best friend, the one constant in your life through every twist and turn. You would know if he felt something for you… right?

But then again…

You sighed and rested your elbow on the railing, pressing your glass lightly to your lips. Leslie had known Glen her entire life. If anyone could read him, it was her. And the way she spoke—like she’d been holding onto this knowledge for a while—left you with an uncomfortable sense of doubt.

Could she be right? Could you really have missed something that big?

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled you from your thoughts. You looked over, expecting another party guest, but instead, you found Glen standing beside you. The velvet tuxedo jacket was now off, and his hair was a little mussed from probably running his hand through it one too many times, but his smile was warm and familiar.

“Hey,” he said softly, leaning casually against the railing next to you. “You okay?”

You managed a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, just needed a breather.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calm and steady, before arching a brow. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Leslie pestering you at the bar, would it?”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched with the hint of a smile. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” Glen said, clearly not buying it. “Because Leslie may or may not have told me to come find you.”

Your heart gave a jolt, and you turned to look at him. “She what?”

“She didn’t say why,” Glen added quickly, holding up a hand as if to reassure you. “But… she said…enough.”

“Enough?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his smile fading into something softer, something more sincere. “Enough to make me realize I’ve been putting this off for too long.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Glen stepped closer. His eyes searched yours, as though he were trying to gauge your reaction before saying anything else.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice low. “For coming with me tonight. For being here for me—not just tonight, but always.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. There was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made your heart beat just a little faster.

“And I need you to know,” he continued, taking another step closer, “how much you mean to me.”

The space between you was nearly nonexistent now, and for a moment, neither of you said a word. His eyes searched yours, his hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure if he should.

You felt it then—that shift Leslie had hinted at, the one you’d been too afraid to fully acknowledge. This wasn’t just your best friend standing in front of you. This was Glen, the man who had been at your side for years, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

He took a deep breath and leaned in slightly, pausing when your noses were almost touching. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

Instead, you met his gaze, your heart thundering in your chest.

Glen’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and then his eyes fluttered shut as he raised a hand to your face. His palm was warm as it cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You closed your eyes just as his lips found yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he was afraid you might pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and placed a hand lightly against his chest, he deepened the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you faded—the music, the laughter, the skyline. All that mattered was the way Glen’s lips moved against yours, the way he held you like he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath as you both stood there, processing what had just happened. Glen’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb tracing soft, absentminded circles against your skin. Your heart raced, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the surreal, breathtaking reality of the moment.

Finally, Glen broke the silence, his lips curving into that familiar, playful grin that always managed to put you at ease. “So…” he began, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity from before. “Does this mean you’ll let me take you to next year’s Globes too?”

The laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, breaking the tension in the most perfect way. You shook your head, resting your forehead against his chest as a smile spread across your lips. “We’ll see if you behave, Cowboy.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. “Behave? I’m a perfect gentleman,” he said, his voice tinged with mock indignation.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arching a brow. “Oh, really? Perfect gentlemen don’t usually kiss their best friends on rooftops in the middle of a party.”

His grin widened as he shrugged, his hand still resting lightly on your waist. “Maybe I got tired of being just your best friend.”

Your breath caught again at the sincerity in his tone, the way his teasing words carried so much truth. Glen had always been charming, always quick with a joke or a flirtatious comment, but this felt different. This felt real.

You didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but instead of pushing, Glen just smiled and leaned down to press a quick, gentle kiss to your forehead. And with that, he stepped back slightly, though his hand still lingered on your waist, as if to let you know that even with the space between you, he was still there, still yours.

You tilted your head back to look up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. The smile that still lingered on his lips wasn’t one of teasing; it was genuine, like he was relieved to have crossed that line with you.

“I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, your voice quieter than usual. “This is... a lot to take in, you know?”

Glen nodded, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your dress, a small gesture that seemed to ground you.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “I get it.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for a brief moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself truly hear what he was saying. The uncertainty that had clouded your mind earlier began to dissipate, replaced by something far more powerful—trust.

“I just don’t want to mess things up, Glen,” you admitted, looking up at him again, your voice low but clear. “We’ve been friends for so long. I don’t want to lose that.”

His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb now tracing along your jawline as he spoke, his voice steady. “We won’t lose it,” he promised, his gaze never leaving yours. “I wouldn’t let that happen. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, the sincerity in his words making your heart swell. “Okay,” you whispered, the word feeling like a vow in the quiet space between you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, as if the world had paused just for you two. It was peaceful, despite everything—the chaos of the party, the swirling emotions inside you. Glen was here, right in front of you, and he was offering you something more. Something you hadn’t expected but couldn’t deny.

Then, in the silence that followed, he grinned, that familiar playful glint returning to his eyes. “So, does this mean you’ll let me take you on a date?”

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, and couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes twinkled with excitement. He was waiting, his expression open and genuine, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like anything was uncertain anymore. The nerves, the doubts—they melted away in the warmth of his gaze.

"Yeah," you said softly, your voice filled with the quiet confidence that had come from years of friendship and, somehow, this unexpected moment. "I'd like that."

His smile deepened, and for a second, it was as if time stood still. He reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it shy. It was everything you hadn’t known you needed.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours. You both stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, as if savoring the moment before the world could rush back in.

"Come on," Glen said, pulling you gently by the hand, “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

As he led you back toward the party, his fingers intertwined with yours, and the moment felt complete. You’d crossed the line, yes, but it was the best kind of line to cross—one that made you excited for whatever came next.

You shared one last look, a silent promise between you two, before re-entering the party, side by side, ready for whatever the night—and your future—held.

#Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell x reader #Glen Powell x you

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bitchimasnake-sss · 9 months ago

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Sleep nonnie again. Is it okay if I go by 🦊🌲 its easier.

Anyways I think it would be a funny scenario if you suggest to the op boys to keep their hands warm by putting them between your thighs. I know some boys would just get a heart attack if you suggest that and get a cute blush

say whAT NOW?? NONNIE HELLO AND WELCOME BACK!! (dm me so that we can be friends ur fic ideas are so out of pocket i love it); also, gonna add ace cause i see many ace thirsties out there ;)

let me warm you up ft. the monster trio//ace!

luffy:

💗when he agreed to this, he didn't know just what kind of uncharted territory he was entering. he was simply not prepared. you had given him such a soft smile, taking his hands into yours as gingerly, "luff, are you cold?" he had nodded a mindless yes because you were crossing a terribly cold patch of the sea and his hands were freezing. but then held his hand a bit tighter and whispered, "i can warm them up for you. if you like?" he was too drunk on the idea to see the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you spurred him on with your honey-like voice.

💗so now, he sat in front of you, eyes blown wide and lips trembling as his hands rested between your plush thighs. you had squeezed your thighs shut around his restless hands, claiming that it'll get him warm in little to no time. but god, this was hard (much like something else) and he was trying his best to keep his fingers still and not do anything hasty, like digging it into your soft flesh and relishing in the way your body molded to his touches. or by trailing his hand a bit upwards and seeing the way you react. 💗"luffy??" you called out and captain shook his head as he crawled out of that daze like state, "y-yeah?" "you okay?" you mumbled, voice far too gentle. you fucking minx. "you seem like you're losing your mind." good catch! because he was. luffy abruptly pulled his hands backwards lest he do something that truly made him lose his sanity. he scrambled off of your bed, heading out the door into the chilly deck in long, skitterish steps. "where ya going?" you called after him but he rushed out, yelling after himself, "JUST GONNA WARM UP WITH USSOP INSTEAD BYE" did ussop have better thighs than you? you may never know.

zoro:

💚zoro was very stupid, very. he was not the smartest tool in the shed when it came to love or crushes or dating or cooking food or social cues or emotional intelligence or— i should stop before this turns into zoro slander [i promise i love him]. but now, the bounty hunter sat with his face flushed and hands tucked between your soft, malleable thighs. he was smarter than this, truly. he knew that when you suggested that he looked cold and you can warm him up, he was supposed to say "fuck no, get out." because having a crush on you was embarrassing enough on it's own. but you had given him such a gut-wrenching, pleading look. your eyes saddened and your lips fell into a pout and oh god, what was he, if not the man who would let you ruin him? 💚ever since he was a child, zoro had always known that he would die a noble swordman's death. he would die fighting, brave, courageous, unafraid. now, he was sure he'd die from the way you squirmed and pressed your thighs shut. "quit movin'" he grunted, looking away from you as your stared at him. but you tucked your arms against your chest and the soft swell of your tits fell forward towards him so deliciously. he must have lost focus and let his gaze travel against your body cause you coughed, drawing his attention back to your face, "quit starin'." he pulled his hands back, ears going red and heart faltering. he should really stop before he gave into the temptations and pinned you to the mattress to— his voice pitched up, "i-i'm going back to my room, bye." "zoro?!" you called after the swordsman as he ran out, "BUT THIS IS YOUR ROOM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" [spoiler: he went to chopper and crushed herbs to make medicine. he wanted to get rid of some of that tension but he failed. because he put the pressure too hard and the china dish in which he was crushing the leafy herbs broke, and now chopper was hitting him square in his head, talking about how important it was to be precise in medicine and how zoro will never make a good doctor. "stop hitting me— OW" "what KIND OF A DOCTOR ARE YOU?" "IM A SWORDSMAN!" "YEAH CAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A DOCTOR!"]

sanji:

💙breath in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breath in, breath out— "sanji?" you asked, a tinge of worry at his almost fainting figure, "are you okay?!" "my love, darling, sugar pie—" the man caught his tongue between his teeth, trying to stop his head from spinning. the floor seem to sway under him, the lights seemed too bright. was he flying or was it the blood rush?? "what did you just ask me?" you look down at the kitchen floor, mumbling with a bashful smile, "if your hands are cold...i can warm them up." his heart quickened as did his fingers. he chopped the bell pepper so hastily that you were sure you saw sparks flying. "and how would you do that?" "you can keep them between my thighs, if you like?" you looked up, "OH MY GOD SANJI YOUR NOSE—" 💙i hate to cut the story short but sanji 100% fainted and you had to catch him before he fell face-forward into the pot with boiling water on the stove. sorry, he gets no bitches :( but you did look after him on the bedside and let him eventually touch your thighs so... idk, a win is a win!!! ["so, is he like dead?" zoro had asked, uninterested, as you hauled the cook's figure outside the kitchen. you were dragging him to his room as the rest of the crew trailed you. they had heard your shriek and came spilling into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. "did you give him a hug?" nami asked, amused. "hug's too much." ussop snickered, "she probably smiled at him." sanji whipped his head dangerously to glare at them, "i can hear you. and i will be poisoning your food." he looked back at you, "oh don't you worry, im still fainted." he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you smiled to yourself, making a note to warm him up later]

ace:

🧡truthfully, how do you ask a man made of literal fire if you can "warm him up"??? you must have not thought you plan through because you had stood in his room a bit tipsy, locked the door behind you and asked a boy [who was always shirtless cause he was so warm] that question. "huh?" ace's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. he stood up to walk towards you, "what is that about? you wanna warm me up?" "NO!" you bit your cheek when you realized the implications of your words, "i was joking, obviously." "awh, i do love when you humor me." he quipped, "it's kinda cute." "shut up." you glared at him but he gave you an earnest smile back, "if you're cold, you could have just told me." he set his finger ablaze, acting suave, "see, i can warm you up." "you wanna set me on fire?" you seethed. "no?!" "why did you light your fingers on fire?!" "YOU ASKED A MAN MADE OF FIRE IF YOU CAN WARM HIM UP? DONT ASK ME QUESTIONS?!" "i'm drunk" you mumbled. after a beat you looked down at the floor, "and... i'm kinda cold." portagas d. ace just smiled, shrugging in mock nonchalance, "we can cuddle, if you like. i've been told i'm a pretty great heater." you laughed, "hah, hotshot." ace gave you a wicked grin, "how drunk are you?" "not nearly enough." just saying, portagas d ace was better than just a "pretty great heater." he was a pretty great fu-

a/n: i love writing stupid things so much. it makes me so happy because i'm a stupid little girl giggling and typing on her laptop when she should be doing work. tagging the ever lovelies: @bokutosbiceps (resident luffy enjoyer) and @help-i-lost-my-sock (resident ace enjoyer). if you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know (//tell me your preferences and i'd tag you in those fics)!

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suguann · 6 months ago

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an. another ex-husband gojo fic because i'll die with this trope. this ends exactly how you'd expect (if you know me)

Satoru doesn’t take it well when you tell him you have a boyfriend after bumping into him in the grocery store parking lot. At least, you don’t think he does. It’s hard to tell, his expression inscrutable as ever behind his dark sunglasses—the sharp arch of his brow the only indication he’s heard you at all.

“Is that so?” he finally says, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. Has you grasping at straws to make something right that isn’t even wrong yet. Has any thought of this being an easy conversation shattered at your feet.

You clear your throat. “Yeah…he’s nice. You might even like him.”

No, he wouldn’t—a little voice in the back of your head tells you. Knowing it's because all of the unreadable parts of you are no longer connected to him, but instead to a man you've barely spent two months dating, and that must infuriate him.

He doesn’t ask (not that you expect him to) when you find yourself prattling on about how you met Rin through a friend, how he’s an investment banker and takes you out to his cabin on the weekends, that he’s predictable—stable is what you really mean, but don't say—with an ordinary life who wants kids—

Satoru seems to chew on that last bit of information like he’s suddenly tasted something unpleasant, the line of his brow flat and unimpressed, the slant in his mouth mutinous. He’s uttered all but three words, and so far, this entire conversation leaves you with nothing short of a stomach ache.

“He really is a good person,” you add, just because you have nothing else to say and your penchant for filling awkward, empty spaces.

Then he smiles, and you relax a little. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

You smile, too, a soft, sure thing this time that makes his widen.

But if you'd been more level-headed and less flustered about bumping into your ex-husband after several months of silence—since he signed his name beside yours in front of your lawyer—you’d realize how dangerous that smile is.

You’re unsure if it’s too contingent to be considered a coincidence, but he starts showing up in odd places after that all-too-uncomfortable one-sided conversation in the parking lot.

First, it’s at your favorite coffee shop you usually stop at on your way to work. It’s strange because you remember him hating coffee, how he'd always preferred to load it with creamer and sweetener just to get rid of the bitter taste. But you don’t mention it when he offers—no, insists on paying for your coffee and blueberry streusel muffin.

When the total pops up on the register, he doesn’t even blink when he opens his wallet.

Of course, you can't let him pay. There must be something in writing somewhere that says ex-husbands shouldn't pay for their recently divorced ex-wife's coffee.

He shrugs, smiling, after you tell him it’s expensive—has that ever bothered me?—and slides a shiny black card across the counter to the barista.

“You can't show up out of nowhere and start buying me things,” you hiss afterward, slightly flustered by the whole ordeal. The city’s big, but you still worry about one of your friends or colleagues seeing you with Satoru—they may get the wrong idea. “We’re not together anymore.”

"Do I have to message you the next time I want to get you coffee?" he tucks his hands into his coat.

"No, we shouldn't even be getting coffee together."

“Am I not allowed to be nice now that you have a boyfriend?”

“That’s not what I said,” you huff. “And you didn’t even buy yourself anything. How am I supposed to look at it?”

He shrugs, “I decided I didn’t want anything,” and you don't even think he notices that he holds your hand when you go to cross the street.

Habit. You'll write that one off as a habit, but he doesn't let go until you're in front of the tall, shiny doors of your office building.

The second time he shows up unannounced is while you're walking through the quaint park near your apartment, which you know is far from his sleek penthouse on 5th Avenue, the one with a perfect view of the city and the bay—a thirty-minute drive, at least.

“I bought a house out here,” he tells you when you ask. “It’s up on the hill.”

You know which one he’s talking about. You’ve driven past it a few times. It's a cozy brick stone with lots of windows, a white picket fence, and a large backyard, something you’ve always wanted since before you were married. According to a real estate website, his house is a little over a million.

Interest must be written all over your face because he asks: “You want to see it?”

There are a number of reasons why you shouldn’t say yes, why you should politely decline and finish your last lap along the trail and run to the grocery store afterward to pick up something for dinner and call Rin to let him hear about your day—

“Okay,” you say, hands on your hips. “But make it quick.”

He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling at the corners with something akin to affection. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to remind him, again, that you’re not together, so he’s not allowed to use pet names, but a large hand on the small of your back to usher you towards the shiny, sleek SUV across the street leaves you with a mouth full of cotton.

He watches you take in the hardwood floors and tall ceilings trimmed with crown molding. When you stop in the massive kitchen to run your fingers over the granite countertops, it almost feels bittersweet walking through the house of your dreams while your ex-husband eyes you questioningly as if he's looking for your approval.

“So? What do you think?”

The smile you give him is genuine. “It’s beautiful.”

Satoru matches your smile with a bigger one, almost blinding. “That’s good, that’s really good.”

You feel like you should ask why he bought a house this big in the first place, but there’s a pebble in your stomach if you think about family photos on the walls with him happy and smiling, his arm around a pretty wife who wears frilly aprons and kisses him on the cheek when he comes home. A future where you don’t exist, yet he’s letting you take a peak into it, anyway.

So you don’t say anything.

You meant to leave an hour ago, but he plied you with dinner— friends can have dinner together, can’t they? —which leads to two glasses of wine and then watching movies together on his very soft couch. If everything didn't feel so fuzzy around the edges, you probably would have noticed the signs sooner, that he’s trying to—

(He presses you into the couch cushions, biting marks into your neck and chest until your breaths come out fast and high-pitched.

“We shouldn’t,” you manage to say, still tipsy and tongue heavy in your mouth from the wine you had. "Toru, I should really go."

He huffs a laugh against your cheek—you note how he still wears the same cologne you bought him all those years ago when everything was so new, and there wasn't a ring on your finger yet—pressing a messy kiss there that makes you squirm. “Doesn’t this remind you of old times, though?”

“B-but I have a boyfriend.”

In retaliation, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh around the fluttering pulse in your neck, just shy of too rough, though your fingers in his hair pull him into you like you can’t get enough.)

That maybe this means he—

(Satoru bunches the lace of your panties in his fist, shoving them up around your knees, trapping your legs together against your chest. A long, drawn-out groan rumbles in his chest at discovering the creamy mess between your thighs. “Always had such a pretty wet pussy, fuck. Do you get this wet for him, too?”

“Shut up.”

He laughs because he hears what you don’t say: No, you’ve never been this turned on when it’s with Rin. Satoru’s the only one to ever leave you wet and shaky just from a few words.)

It’s an insane thought, but it’s almost like Satoru—

(He holds his hand up to your mouth, telling you to lick before he wraps it around his cock, pressing the tip into the slick seam of your cunt. And you forgot how big he is, just on the side of too much, the bit of effort it takes for him to sink in a little, and then all at once, rending you right down the middle.

You whimper, fingers scrabbling clumsily for one of the throw pillows near your head, needing something to hold on to.

“There you go, pretty girl,” Gojo breathes, hips tight and close, grinding into you so that you can feel how deep he is. “I see she can still take it.”)

No, he wouldn’t—

(He fucks you hard enough to send you skittering up the couch, only to pull you back down again, grinding you on his cock to touch places inside you that he’s only ever managed to reach. You whine into where your face is pressed against the back cushions, biting down to muffle how loud you’re being.

He makes a displeased sound and forces you to look at him again with his fingers digging into your cheeks.

"What if I give you a little baby, huh? We'll be a family together. You, me, and our baby in this big house. Doesn't that sound nice? We'll fill the house with babies," he mutters, bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth, forcing your legs further against your chest.

The angle rubs just right inside you. You make an unintelligible noise at the back of your throat, unable to move or get better friction in this position.

“We did it your way last time, didn’t we, baby?” his little laugh is breathless, kind of mean. “I let you leave with all those silly thoughts in your head; thought you knew what you wanted, but now we’re going to do it my way from now on.”

His words should strike alarm bells, but when he fits his hand between your bodies to strum his thumb against your clit, your mind empties.

"You've always been mine." Words barely audible, he still sounds breathless; wrecked. "It's about time you get that through your head.")

Except you know he would.

A month later, you’re packing away the fine china in your apartment, wondering how the few things you own will fill a house so large.

#.things i write #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo imagine #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #fem!reader #gojo satoru

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dollwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Kakashi doing the shadow clone jutsu and you get doubled teamed 😩

— ⟡ dizzy drabbles disclaimer !!

all dizzy drabbles are written when i am extremely high ( or, dizzy ) and they don’t contain a trigger warnings list. if there’s no indication by the request, you can assume that the fic is nsfw + probably dark-leaning, if not blatantly dark. noncon, dub con, and other triggering content may be present, read with caution ( enjoy your experience <3 )

what about… gangbanging you instead? hehehe !! kakashi’s always wanted to see you airtight— stuffed with cock in every hole, watching you take as many cocks as you could possibly handle at once, and he’s told you so many times before, but you were always apprehensive. even if he was involved and even if the other men were his friends, it still felt like cheating.

“besides, you know i love the way you feel. i don’t want to have sex with anyone else.”

well, now, Kakashi had an idea.

and of course he waits until you’ve already cum once; riding his cock, rocking back and forth with your palms planted on his thighs. with your head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes closed, you don’t see it happen, but you felt a similar grip on your face, jerking your head to the side— his thumb pressing into your jaw to force it open. you let out a startled moan, cut short by a mouthful of cock.

“Mmmff!!”

both hands flee to reach for the obstruction, before your arms are hooked, under the elbow, by two much stronger ones, and brought together behind you. your eyes flicker upwards to see who your assailant is, only to find a mirror of Kakashi staring back at you. you glance, panicked, to the man you’re perched atop, and see that you’re not crazy. you’re still riding Kakashi.

“have i fucked you silly already?” his familiar, playful purr vibrates against the shell of your ear, and you shudder, realizing that the man holding you from behind must also be Kakashi’s twin. “you look so confused. you really don’t know what i did? think long and hard, pretty girl.”

and then it dawned on you what he’d done. with a muffled, moan of approval, you clamp your mouth harder around your lover’s cloned cock, sucking until your eyes crossed.

“uh-huh, that’s the look i wanted. you said you loved the way i feel, right? that you only want to fuck me?” you mewl, gargling on him, a half coherent affirmation, and he chuckles, raspy and wanton. you feel the second clone, the one at your back, worm his way between your asscheeks, spit-slicked cock head pushing up against the ring. luckily, you were so sensitive from cumming that you spasmed and wiggled, pushing back to impale yourself with the second cock.

you whine. the stretch is so incredible, the fullness mind blowing. and, when you open your eyes, scanning the room, you could see a multitude of Kakashi clones, all lined up, stroking their identical cocks, waiting their turns to decimate you.

“good, then i’ll just see how many of me it takes to break you, pretty girl.”

#doll’s dizzy drabblin’ ⟡#I know that like they’re technically shadows ya know BUT LET ME DREAM OKAY #kakashi x reader #kakashi #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake smut #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x you #naruto smut

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writethrough · 1 year ago

Text

I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush”

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you.

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude.

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car.

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door.

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you.

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away.

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day.

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst.

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight.

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you.

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag.

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out.

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing.

“Wanna say that again?”

Your brows pulled in confusion.

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious?

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence.

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth.

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building.

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office.

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes.

I heard he keyed Billy’s car.

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up.

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making.

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough.

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating.

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside.

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette.

��Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap.

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets.

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you.

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood.

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile.

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked.

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out.

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.”

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal.

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.”

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile.

“You’ll have mine.”

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing.

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door.

—

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name.

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself.

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness.

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers.

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food.

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.”

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone.

You took a shot in the dark.

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?”

His jaw clenched and hands stopped.

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor?

But why?

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other.

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.”

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping.

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.”

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation.

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen.

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.”

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed.

Of course, that was what he took away.

“Billy,” you warned playfully.

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.”

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content.

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over.

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.”

Names.

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you.

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist.

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.”

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours.

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked.

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were.

He leaned his elbows on the table.

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.”

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove x reader #Billy Hargrove x female reader #Billy Hargrove x fem!reader #Billy Hargrove x you #Billy Hargrove one shot #Billy Hargrove oneshot #Billy Hargrove fanfic #Billy Hargrove fanfiction #Billy Hargrove imagine #Billy Hargrove imagines

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lomlhwa · 1 year ago

Text

multiple??? (p.sh)

pairing: snake hybrid!seonghwa x bunny hybrid!reader

preview: your best friend claims to have two dicks. there's no way though. ....right?

tags/warnings: fem reader, praise, seonghwa has two GIANT cocks, two cocks in one hole (someone sedate me), fingering, seonghwa is so sweet and careful, split tongue, squirting, oral (m.receiving), cum eating, bulge kink, size kink, pet names (bunny, noona), he's so desperate, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, friends to lovers

trigger warnings: n/a

w/c: 1.4k

song recs for this fic: seven by jungkook, i was made for lovin' you by kiss

a/n: i need seonghwa thank you

“seonghwa, there’s no way in hell i’m gonna believe that you have two cocks. it’s just not possible!”

your best friend paces around your coffee table a few times before giving you a distressed look.

“ask any girl i’ve hooked up with. they’ll know there’s more than one down there,” he runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head in disbelief. his slitted eyes stare lasers into your head.

“i can’t believe you’re expecting me to accept that you have two cocks. are they both puny? is that why you have two? do snake hybrids have tiny dicks?” your tall ear twitches on the top of your head as he hisses at you.

“if you must know, they’re both massive.”

you tap your chin to come up with a solution to this dilemma.

“show me.”

seonghwa’s jaw falls slack and he looks at you in pure shock. “SHOW YOU!?” he yells. he crosses his arms over his chest. he huffs dramatically.

“come on, drop them sweatpants and prove it. or…. are you lying?” you push his buttons to try and get him to do what you want.

in all honesty, you’re hoping he’s lying. you’ll never let him live that down and he knows it.

“fuck it.”

seonghwa’s nimble fingers work at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. he hooks his fingers on the waistband of his pants and underwear. he takes a deep breath and looks up at you. “try not to be too shocked.” you scoff and roll your eyes. “i’m not gonna be sh-” you cut yourself off as he drops his pants to his ankles. your eyes widen and your jaw drops. they’re that big and they’re soft.

“holy fuck. you’re massive,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

seonghwa moves to pull his pants back up and you scramble to stop him. “one fuck couldn’t hurt our friendship, right?” you can feel your folds becoming slippery at the idea of taking him. when his forked tongue slips out of his mouth, he can smell it.

“i-i guess not,” he gulps. he looks down at you sitting on the floor by his feet. his cocks grow hard and become bigger right in front of your eyes. your nose twitches as you look up at him. “please, let me taste them.”

he nods, sweat forming on his forehead. your head jerks forward and you take the top member into your mouth, the one under it rubs on your chin. his thighs tremble as you suck on him like it’s your last meal.

“ahh fuck noona,” he whimpers. your thighs clamp together in search of friction. you try and force his whole member down your throat but you physically can’t. it’s too big.

you wrap your hands around his second member, stroking it at the same pace as your head. it twitches in your hand and seonghwa lets out high-pitched moans.

seonghwa gathers your hair into a ponytail in his hands and helps you move your head at a steady pace. you cough and choke around him, saliva pooling on the floor. you run your tongue over the veins in his cock, tracing the lines with spit. you speed up your hand to keep up with him rutting into your throat.

“gonna cum, please let me cum in your throat noona,” he whines at you. you let out a stifled giggle and nod to the best of your abilities. he fucks your mouth a little rougher as he reaches his high.

both his cocks release at the same time. one in your throat, one all over your shirt. you let him finish riding out his high before pulling away from him. you look up at him with teary eyes and a wet chin.

“that’s insane,” you say before looking down at your shirt. you gather some of his cum on your fingers and lick them clean. his cocks twitch while he watches you eat his cum.

you move to get off the floor but seonghwa is quicker than you. he put you on all fours and gets behind you. he runs his fingers just above the waistband of your jeans. “can i, noona?” he asks so politely as he kisses your waist.

“please hwa,” you nod, catching your bottom lip between your prominent front teeth. he’s quick to strip your bottom half, leaving your dripping core exposed. your hole opens and closes as it lets out globs of slick.

“you smell so fucking good, noona,” seonghwa says as his tongue darts out multiple times. he can’t get enough of your scent. your puffy white tail twitches as he runs his hand over the soft fur.

“gotta prep you,” he says before shoving two fingers into your hole at once. your body jerks forward, his long fingers digging deep into you. your pussy makes loud squelching sounds as he fucks you with his fingers.

“moreee,” you plead. luckily, he’s not one to deny you your pleasure. he shoves two more fingers into your hole, spreading you wide open. you kick your feet, your shins hitting the floor with loud thumps.

“please cum on my fingers, bunny. please, i know you need it. give it all to me,” your legs shake as he gives you encouragement. your chest rises and falls at a quick pace as you reach your high. your orgasm comes bursting out of you. you squirt all over his hand and arm, and a little on his shirt.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you blubber as his fingers continue to work your orgasm out. finally, he takes his fingers out and they’re absolutely dripping with your juices. “you sound so pretty, noona.”

he rises on his knees to line up with your entrance. “you’re gonna take both at once. i promise you can do it, bunny,” seonghwa takes a deep breath. his heart is racing at the idea of his best friend taking both his cocks.

he squeezes both lengths in his hands and shoves them into your hole. you let out a strangled cry as he stretches you out. the pain is almost unbearable. you bury your face into your hands and try to breathe through it.

“that’s my girl. you’re doing so fucking well, noona. taking both my cocks. good fucking girl,” seonghwa pulls your head towards his so he can kiss you. he kisses you gently in contrast to the pain between your legs.

once he’s completely bottomed out, he stills so you can get used to it. your walls pulse around him, trying so desperately to adjust to his huge size.

“move, move please hwa,” you mumble between kisses. he releases your lips and looks at you with so much love that you think he might explode. he pulls out almost all the way to the tips before slamming back into you. you stifle a scream as he jabs your g-spot.

“you take me so well. you’re so perfect. fuck, you’re so good to me,” he sets a steady pace with his hips that makes you see stars. your hands grip the carpet with so much force that your knuckles turn white.

“let me see you, hwa. wanna see your pretty face,” you beg. he pulls out of you slowly before flipping you onto your back. he brushes your hair out of your face as he pushes back into your weeping hole. “hi pretty bunny. is this better?” he asks and you nod.

he starts thrusting again and your thighs tremble as they wrap around his slim waist. he’s so beautiful while he fucks you. his face alone could make you cum.

he brings a soft finger to your clit and circles it, sending new waves of electricity through you. your orgasm races towards you and you can tell he’s close too.

“noona, please, can i cum inside you? please, i need it,” he begs you. his hips are stuttering and you can tell he’s waiting for your permission. seonghwa looks at you with desperate and wild eyes, his orgasm becoming harder to maintain.

“yes, please, cum with me,” you nod, bringing him down to kiss you as you both cum. he moans and whines against your mouth as he dumps his loads into you. your walls milk him like your life depends on it.

“thank you, thank you, thank you, noona,” he mumbles as his orgasm fades. your bodies stick together as he detaches from you to pull out. he pulls both cocks out and watches his cum flood out of you. “holy shit.”

“i think this is definitely hurting our friendship cause i don’t think i could live with the idea of anyone else fucking you,” seonghwa admits as he watches you in awe. you smile at him.

“at least take me on a date before we put labels on.” you giggle.

“a date first? i just came inside you. we’re basically married.”

#lomlhwa #ateez #atz #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez smut #atz smut #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut

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hotdsworld · 3 months ago

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"Beneath the mask" Neteyam Sully

Neteyam Sully x F!Reader

a/n: I advise to read warnings before going straight to the fic! Beautiful dividers from @cafekitsune

Summary: you never know what's hidden beneath the mask.

Word count: 3,2k

Warnings: 18+!, mentions of a murder, mentions of body injuries (not Reader), aged up Neteyam, stalking, noncon, oral (F receiving), piv, no protection, breeding kink, chase, knife play, body betrayal

Dead dove do not eat

You knew someone was watching you, but you didn't expect it to turn out like it did. They say people wear masks every single day, but you didn't expect the Ghostface mask to hide something so familiar.

The feeling of being watched was with you all the time, like a shadow always present and hard to ignore. You tried to convince yourself that it's just paranoia, but deep down, you knew there was more to it. Ever since the Ghostface killer appeared in the news for the first time your anxiety got worse.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder more often, double checking your locks and windows, getting worried over the smallest of sounds. The possibility of Ghostface targeting you was low, but how low? You didn't want to risk it. After all, why not you? You were innocent, and psychos like this loved the innocents the most. Something to prey on, to defile, to break… and weren't you the perfect target? A student living on her own in a shitty neighborhood.

Every day, you could feel someone's eyes on you but whenever you looked over your shoulder there was nothing. You wanted to go on with your life normally, you didn't want to go crazy and have people judge you. Your friends were very supportive, but you didn't think they would understand how scared you are every single day. Your best friend understand you perfectly well, but he was gone for a family trip so you had no one to talk to. He was different… not quite a human, but he understood you like no human could. Maybe Neteyam has more humanity in himself than others.

You were sitting at your Spider’s house, watching a movie of his choosing. It wasn't the best one, but you didn't complain. After all, he was the one that mattered right? Your compatibility and connection… but his focus was on the movie. Spider was really sweet and charming so you decided to give him a chance. You wanted something true and pure to happen to you and with Spider it felt like it might be it. You crossed your legs, trying to get into the plot too. Spider placed his hand on your thigh, caressing it a little. A gesture you welcomed, it's been a while and you're touch starved. Not even a minute after your phone rang, you smiled shyly.

“Sorry, I forgot to turn it off,” you looked at the screen, your eyebrows raising a bit upon seeing ‘unknown’. You picked up, looking around, it was a habit now. “Hello?” Usually, you don't pick up from numbers you do not know… but you had a feeling and you need to pick up from this one.

“Good evening, y/n” the voice on the other end was smooth, almost polite, but there was an underlying menace that sent chills down your spine. You looked at Spider, but he was too engrossed in his movie to notice your discomfort. How did the caller know your name? It must be one of your friends pranking you…

“Who is this?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. After all, you are in a safe house with Spider not so far from the campus. You are going to be fine and no silly prank will change that. Nothing bad could happen here, right?

“You tell me,” a hint of a challenge in his voice. The caller was taunting you and somehow it was filling you up with anxiety.

“Well, I have no idea,” you sighed. It wasn't something funny to you. Prank calls are supposed to be funny but this is just unsettling.

“Do you like scary movies, y/n?” The question was casual, but it sent a chill down your spine. Why would he ask about something like this?

“Stop playing around, Lo’ak. I'm busy right now,” you snapped, your irritation mixing up with the fear.

“Busy? Watching? Or letting him touch you? You are better than that, y/n,” the worst taunted, dripping with disdain. But who did he despise? You? Or Spider? Your heart skipped a beat. Did Spider tell Lo'ak you were going to visit? Was the called really Lo’ak? What kind of a sick joke was that? “Not Lo’ak. Keep guessing.” You looked around the living room, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. Now you didn't feel as safe as you did before.

“Who the hell is this?” you demanded, raising your voice in panic. Spider looked at you with concern. But that only made the caller chuckle, he was mocking you.

“Let's just say. I'm so much closer than you realize, in every meaning of this sentence,” there was a sinister edge to his words that made your blood run cold. Without another word, you hung up, your hands trembling. You couldn't handle any more of this twisted prank. Spider paused the movie, he approached you with a worried expression.

“Are you okay? What was that anyway?” He rubbed your back, to comfort you a little. Spider suspected it was a stupid joke but seeing you so scared moved him a little.

“A prank call. It was just very weird,” you let Spider lead you back to the couch. You clung to him, calming down a little. His arm around your shoulders, giving you a sense of safety. You were feeling better, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched… as always. Spider held you close, his presence reassuring.

“It's just a prank, don't let it get to you,” he sighed. You nodded, trying to believe his words. On the other hand, the voice on the phone felt too real, too menacing… and the way he knew about Spider. Your phone kept calling, filling you with worry. “You want me to get it?” Spider offered. He had no problem with handling a stupid teenager or a creep.

“No, I'll do it,” you tried to sound braver than you felt. You answered the call again, feeling better with Spider close to you.

“Don't hang up on me again,” the caller hissed. His voice dripping with menace and for a second you thought, what if you are talking to the actual devil? There was ringing upstairs.

“Shit, my phone. I will be back,” Spider patted your shoulder before running upstairs. You sighed, realizing you are alone again.

“What do you want? I don't find this funny anymore,” you were scared of course… but you were angry. Who could ruin your date like this? Your mood and wellbeing? Who does that to another human being? The caller was silent, you weren't even sure if he's still there. “Hello?” No answer… you hung up, shaking your head in disbelief. “Do you need help finding your phone?” You call out to Spider. He always loses his phone so it wasn't a surprise it was taking him longer. Spider didn't respond so you walked upstairs. “Have you found it?” You scan every single room with no success until you reach his bedroom. Your phone fell out of your hand as you gasped in terror.

Your date was gut open like a fucking animal. Spider's body was lying down mutilated, his insides spilling out. You looked away feeling as if you were going to throw up. It was disgusting and terrifying. But not as terrifying as the realization that you are here alone, with the predator who most likely wanted to give you the same treatment. You realized just now it was the Ghostface… You ran out of the house, feeling terrible about leaving Spider's body here but you refused to just give up. You sprinted into the woods. In the house, he would catch you for sure, but here? Here, you had a chance to fight and it was all that mattered.

“Running won't save you, pretty girl.” His voice echoed through the trees, taunting you. You glanced over your shoulder, your eyes widening upon noticing the figure in black robes and a ghostface mask walking calmly after you. He was close… to close. You pushed yourself harder, even though you couldn't breathe, even though your heart hurt. “You are just making it even more fun for me. You can't hide from me, I know you too well. I am everywhere,” his voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. You have never been so scared, but you forced yourself to stay focused. You stumbled over a root, quickly gathering yourself and continuing the run. Every step was a struggle, your heart beating quickly as if it wanted to jump out of your chest… but you couldn't stop. Not now. “Is this the best you can do? I thought you were smarter than this,” he taunts. You ignored him, struggling to breathe. You could hear his steps, urgent yet patient. You zigzagged through the trees, hoping to lose him, but he was always there… right behind you. There was silence… you kept pushing forward until you dared to look back.

“Where are you?” You whispered, frantically looking around. He was gone. Ghostface lost you… You closed your eyes, trying to breathe normally again. Just then a hand clamped over your mouth, stifling your scream. Another hand pulled you closer by your waist from behind, against a solid chest. You kicked, trying to break free but it was futile. There was no escaping his grip.

“Shhhh, sshhh, shhh. Did you really think you could escape me, little bunny?” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. You thrashed harder, your heart pounding in your chest. “Don't worry. I will take care of such a pretty bunny like you,” he pinned you against the tree, getting rid of the pretty dress you were wearing. “All dressed up? What a shame he won't see this,” he cut through the fabric of your clothes with a sharp knife, causing you to tremble. You were vulnerable, defenseless, cornered like a prey… like a bunny.

“Get away! Get away!” Your screams stifled. You were no match for him, he was much stronger… yet you didn't wish to give up. Once Ghostface got you completely naked, he pushed you on the ground on your back. You hated him for what he did, was doing, and what he is going to do. Why then deep down there's a hint of excitement? You were disgusted. The huge palm over your mouth prevents you from screaming, no matter how hard you bite into it. Ghostface pushed your legs forward, revealing your pussy to him.

“And you are so innocent… I don't think innocent little bunnies get wet for killers.” As much as you did want to argue, his hand prevented you from doing so. You kicked and pushed with no success yet. Ghostface tilted your chin up, as he didn't want you to catch the glimpse of his skin as he raised the mask a little, just so his lips could connect with your pussy. He hummed, enjoying how wet you already were. It turned you on more than he expected. “So fucking tasty,” he moans into your pussy, enjoying it like one of the greatest meals he had ever gotten to try. You held back every single sound that wanted to escape your lips. You didn't want to enjoy it, you wanted to be disgusted and furious. You weren't supposed to enjoy it… you bit on his hand hard as he focused on sucking on your clit. You wanted to push his head away, but it was like he was made of stone. Nothing could move him. “Stop whining. I am a gentleman who prepares you, if I was an asshole I would have you suck me off, no? Be a good little bunny and enjoy,” he suckled, eating you out sloppily. You wanted to ignore the pleasure building up in your stomach… you really did, but it felt as if your body was betraying you… for him. Ghostface was eating your pussy like he waited for it his whole life. It was disturbing. You had no idea who it was, you wanted to run away and never go back… yet your body was reacting to him. “Come on, bunny. Cum for your new master. Show how happy you are to be owned by me,” he mumbled against your pussy, mixing the techniques to make you feel as good as he possibly can. He wasn't a monster… he will pleasure you a bit before completely destroying you. You held back and you wished you did that for longer, but you came undone under his experienced mouth. You took a deep breath, struggling again which only seemed to amuse Ghostface more. “Bunny already trying to run away? Not even going to please your master?” He easily manhandled you into a doggy position, pushing your head down to the ground as your ass remained up. You wanted to crawl away, anything to escape his grip but you were too weak. Ghostface got behind you easily, his cock rubbing against your wet folds. He put his knife against your neck, not eager to play any games now.

“No, no, no, no,” you could already tell it was huge, the thought made you both excited and terrified. How could you explain this? How come you were finding this exciting? Ghostface didn't let you wonder for too long, pushing himself inside you once his cock was coated in your wetness.

“Fuck, bunny. You are so tight. Such a perfect toy for me… Once I saw you with Spider I need my plan needs to happen faster.” You yelped, gripping the ground underneath you desperately. It felt as if he was ripping you apart. Your eyes filled up with tears as you bit your lip hard. Ghostface gave you some time to adjust, knowing that he's so much bigger than average men. His fingers caressing your clit gently, trying to get you even wetter so it goes smoothly. You were losing the strength to fight… Why fight? He was already doing as he wished, and your body didn't seem to complain much. Getting stretched out by that thick cock of his, your walls were giving in quite easily. As if your body belonged to him. Ghostface began to move in and out of you slowly, enjoying the way your hungry pussy clung to him. Gradually, he was increasing the pace of his thrusts, feeling how easier it was becoming to move in and out of you. His fingers rubbing against your clit in circles. As his other hand traced all over your back with the blade, sending chills down your spine. The previous pain was mixing up with pleasure, and you couldn't hold back your sounds of pleasure anymore. You will hate yourself for that later but now, you enjoyed what he was doing to you and how he was making you feel. “Such a tight little bunny. Squeezing my cock so much. It's like your pussy wants me to stay here forever, no? So wet too… you're just a deranged slut who deems herself innocent, but do you feel this, bunny? How wet you are getting for a masked killer who chased you through the woods?” Ghostface gets rough, pressing on your lower back, causing your head to be pressed to the ground. His cock deep inside of you, you weren't sure it's possible for someone to reach so deep inside of you… “Dumb little bunny, you think you could escape this?” He taunts, taking pleasure in degrading you in such a way. You were a conflicted mess, brain filled with nothing but thoughts of how good his dick felt inside of you. You were getting close to the edge again, Ghostface could feel your walls clenching around his cock. “Is that slutty bunny going to cum for me again? Such an obedient little whore… but I want to see you cum,” he flipped you over onn your back, putting his weight on you. You whimpered needily, feeling empty after he pulled out for a moment. You were desperate to cum on his cock. Your pride, morals, and rules didn't matter now. All that mattered was his cock inside of you making you cum. Ghostface pushed back in, groaning as your pussy sucked him back in eagerly. You were truly perfect for him. His knife tracing around your collarbones, moving down to your breasts. Somehow, it was arousing. The cold blade against your warm skin, the danger.

“Please,” you whimpered, looking up at him. You weren't sure if you were asking for him to keep going or to stop. You just needed something. Ghostface decided for you, thrusting in and out of you at a punishing pace, his fingers playing with your needy clit. He intended to push you towards the edge… and then off of it. The blade against your neck, pressed a little harder than before. Ghostface didn't miss how it made you clench.

“Master's perfect bunny. That's right, don't think of anything. Dumb little bunnies like you don't need to think for themselves. Let your master think for you, bunny. You just need to enjoy what I'm giving you.” Normally, you would resist, you would say something back, but you were too damn close to orgasm to think. Your eyes rolling back with every deep thrust. His tip seems to hit your g-spot every single time. “Cum for your master. And when you do master's going to breed you, pump you full of my potent seed. I'm going to claim you, bunny. You are going to be mine and mine only,” he slowed down but the intensity of his moves increased. "Moan for your master, bunny"

“Such a pretty obedient slut for me. You are making your master proud, bunny. For that I'm going to cum inside. I will give you so many little bunnies,” he groans. His cock was twitching inside of you, signaling that he's close and of course, he had no intention of pulling out. He wanted to claim you as completely and utterly his. He wanted you to bear the evidence of what happened tonight in this forest. He wanted you to remember. Even though you were weak you forced yourself forward and you pulled the mask off, gasping as it revealed the handsome blue face you knew perfectly. Your fucking best friend. The epitome of innocence was murdering people with a knife. He was the one who stalked you the whole time, making you feel like you are paranoid. “Surprised? Silly bunny,” he took off the voice changing device. Neteyam pumped you full of his cum, keeping eye contact with you. He didn't seem ashamed or regretful, he seemed pretty proud of what he did. His beautiful eyes flashing with possessiveness and obsession. Neteyam was down bad for you. You didn't know if you should feel betrayed, depressed, or angry. That man was the epitome of innocence, how come he was behind every cruel thing that happened today? And not only… Ever since he met you, he knew you were going to be his. Neteyam isn't human, you couldn't possibly expect him to act like one. Every single day he made sure you were safe by observing you. You are such an adorable bunny, he needed to make sure no one's going to steal you. Neteyam

“Oh my gosh, oh fuck,” your body shook as the wave of pleasure washed over you again, moaning loudly. Ghostface kept going, fucking you through your high. You knew it shouldn't be happening. You should be devastated but somehow you enjoyed everything.

“It's going to be okay, little bunny. You are safe with me… forever” he planted a tender kiss on your forehead before offering you the black robes. You belonged to him now, his little bunny.

#neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x you #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam sully #neteyam atwow #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam #18+ mdni #mdni blog #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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undertheorangetree · 1 year ago

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In The Woods Somewhere

Summary- Coriolanus does not intend on returning to the Capitol alone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ DUBCON Female reader. TBOSAS spoilers technically. Reader is essentially Lucy Gray. Porn with plot. Toxic relationship. Possessive Coriolanus. Chasing. Biting. Restraint. Choking. Edging. Overstimulation. Fingering. Cunnilingus. P in V sex.

Author’s Note- Happy holidays! This is not our regularly scheduled programming but I have Hunger Games/Tom Blyth brain rot so here’s this monster. Please heed the warnings and link to the full fic on AO3 below

She knows the moment he looks up at her, rifle clutched in his hands, that he will not be coming north with her. Not anymore, not now that he has the one thing tying him to this place well in hand.

She isn't a fool. She knows that his feelings for her played only a small role in his agreeing to come with her but she had been willing to overlook that. When he had cupped her face in his hand and swore that he would join her, that they would escape Panem- and their collective noose- together, she had seen the hesitation there. Coryo was not a man built for nature, no more than he was built for the districts, but she loves him and so she had ignored it. Twisted it into something romantic and noble in her head, that he would give up all this, that he would leave behind everything for her. He had promised her earnestly and she had taken him at his word.

But with the look on his face now, some potent mix of elation and relief washing over him like a wave, she knows she never stood a chance.

"It's the gun," he says, and she hates the tone he uses. The way he almost breathes the words, the way he looks up at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. Had she had doubts about what the guns would inspire in him, the look on his face is enough to prove her right.

"The one you fired at Mayfair," she says with a nod, crossing her arms over her chest. It feels almost protective now, as if she can safeguard her breaking heart. "Spruce must have known about this place too. I guess it's not as secret as I thought. We hide that and you're free."

"No more loose ends."

The way he says it, his hands tightening on the barrel as he looks down at the rifle, makes her blood run cold. This is all he wanted, nothing short of a dream come true. She doesn't like it, her reaction just as much as his own, and she fights to push passed it. Tells herself that there is nothing wrong here, not really, that he is entitled to some semblance of excitement, but she can feel that unease gnawing at her gut. It feels like an omen. A warning.

She grins, hoping to seem more at ease than she truly is, and feels her nose scrunch up teasingly as she says, "Besides me."

It's the wrong thing to do. Immediately, he goes rigid, eyes darting up to look at her and she sees the distrust there, akin to a beaten dog. It wouldn't be as startling as it is if not for their conversation in the woods not even an hour before. He is willing to kill if backed far enough into a corner and is that not what she has just done? Reminded him of the power she held over him with this knowledge? Backed him into a corner? And just like that beaten dog, she can see that he is only a moment away from snapping at her with pearly white teeth.

"You wouldn't... tell anyone?"

She feels her eyebrows draw together, all attempt at joking gone. It hurts a little, what seems to be a complete lack of faith in her, and it's almost surprising. Almost. "Course not."

But would she? She doesn’t really know now. The fact that he believes she could, as if she could exchange his freedom for her own, feels like the final nail in the coffin. She could forgive his dislike of the idea of heading north, the relief on his face when he saw the guns. But what he said in the woods- three’s enough for me- and his distrust of her now… she doesn’t think she’s safe with him. All their talk of trust, of how he agreed it was worth more than love, thrown to the wind all for the sake of a duffle bag full of rifles. Because just as easily as those gun could buy her freedom, they could secure his own too. One small step toward returning to his life back in the Capitol. He was going to leave before killing Mayfair, she knew that. And if there’s no weapon linking him to the crime, he could. Because no matter how badly she wants to believe he wants a life with her, she thinks he wants his old one back that much more.

And she isn’t sure just what he is willing to sacrifice to get rid of all those loose ends.

She feels herself smile again, moving on autopilot to fetch the knife she knows is on the shelf near the door. It doesn’t reach her eyes but she isn’t looking at him, gripping the handle of the knife a little too tightly. “I think I’m gonna go dig up some katniss. There’s a good patch down by the lake, don’t know when we’ll come across it again.”

His suspicion only grows at that, lips parted and head tilted in question, and she knows she needs to go. Though his finger has not yet shifted toward the trigger, it hasn’t moved away from it either. He has been a Peacekeeper for no more than two months, but that was more than enough time to pick up all he needed to know about firing a gun. Even if his aim is shoddy, it wouldn’t take much effort to aim in her general direction and hold down on a trigger. She had said it herself, she is the only one left who knew the truth about Mayfair’s death- her murder. If he wanted to go back to the Capitol, he needed to be damn sure there wasn’t a chance of his time here coming back to haunt him. As it is now, she is the only thing standing between him and the Snow penthouse.

“Thought you said they weren’t ready yet,” he protests, that uncertainty still more than apparent.

She prays her smile doesn’t look as forced as it feels when her eyes flick up to look at his handsome face, doing what she can to seem nonchalant. “The world changes awful fast.”

She pulls the door open, the rain pounding against the porch outside, when he calls her name. Her grip on the knife tightens a hair more before she’s turning back to look at him, keeping her eyes wide and innocent as she tilts her head in question. She knows she hesitated, knows he caught her if the look on his face is anything to go by, but rather than let her panic consume her, she focuses on his eyes. The beautiful, brilliant blue of his eyes. That may be the thing she misses most about him, after all this.

“It’s still raining.”

As if a little rain is enough to stop her from saving her own life.

“Well, I’m not made out of sugar,” she grins, taking one last look at him before shutting the door, placing some kind of barrier between them.

Read the rest here :)

#Coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #Coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x fem!reader #Coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #coriolanus snow #tbosas smut

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hungharrington · 6 months ago

Note

ok this is filth adjacent but would u ever write a lil blurb or fic about Steve with a gf whose super insecure about her stretch marks and body? And May be she doesn't want to disappoint Steve bc his exes seem prettier

would i ever! i love these type of requests i love ppl getting a little bit of respite and comfort through fic esp in smut! i hope this makes u feel even a little bit hotter babe <3 1.6k, afab!reader, and just filth adjacent sry! MDNI this entire blog is 18+

Steve's mouth is on your neck, his tongue hot where it teases against your skin, and his hands are searching your body with a lustful fervor.

Your head tips back. It's so easy to let him in, let him slide his body closer to yours, to get more of whatever he's giving. The hot press of his mouth on your neck feels damn good enough to make your blood sing—and heat travel between your thighs, wetness beginning to pool.

You want to rub your thighs together, if only for a little relief. Steve's toned thigh between them prevents it. You scrunch his polo between your hands instead, trying to wrestle the courage to slip your hands beneath it.

You're lying back on his bed, propped up lightly by the pile of pillows the two of you had stacked when the evening had begun. The television at the end of the bed runs a film idly in the background, completely unnoticed by this point.

"How we doin'?" Steve's voice rumbles out, barely parting his lips from your skin before he's swooping back in to nip at it again. The bastard.

Your hands flex again, finally mustering the nerve to dive beneath the fabric of his shirt. Steve's warm. You feel the muscles of his tummy shudder as you skim your fingers across it, a pleasurable shiver running down your spine at the trail of hair you can feel leading into his pants. Steve's breath hitches, close to your ear.

He nudges your jaw with his nose lovingly, planting another row of sloppy, wet kisses down the expanse of your neck.

"Hmm," He hums, questioningly. "Still doing good?"

You realise you hadn't exactly answered him and something glows in your chest at his insistent checks. Extremely reluctantly, you manage to drag your hands away from his torso, shifting them up to subtly nudge his face out the curve of your neck.

Steve's eyes dart up to your face as he pulls himself back, his expression turning dopey the moment your hands cup his jaw. His cheeks are flushed ruby and his hair has been mussed in all his steamy motions. He looks fucking delicious.

You kiss him — surging up to connect your mouths, warmth exploding in your chest and trickling down, down when Steve responds with a revere hunger. His plush lips scrape against yours filthily, his tongue always so perfectly teasing. You're gasping for air when you pull away.

"So good," You say breathily, finally answering the question.

Steve takes a moment longer to register what you've said—but that dopey look crosses his face the moment he does.

He plants his hands on the bed and shifts his weight back, sitting back on his heels. His thigh is still situated right between yours and you have to shove down the lustful urge to grind against it, lazy pleasure still pooling low in your gut. Though you're pretty sure Steve wouldn't oppose the idea.

Chest heaving lightly, you watch as Steve reaches for the edges of his polo and tugs upwards. It comes off in one smooth motion and you're rewarded with a fine sight. You're pretty sure your mouth actually waters in response. Tan chest, scattered moles, the smattering of hair. Oh god, you want to lick him.

Something in your face must give away your train of thought because Steve laughs. He leans back down, one hand moving to your waist, and nuzzles his nose against yours. He steals a kiss from your lips.

"See somethin' you like?" He says, the smirk evident in his tone. You feel like you might vibrate out of your skin.

"Shut up," You aim for fiesty and fall far, far short. You sound on the verge of a whine when you say, "You know I do."

Steve grins wider. His hand on your waist tucks under your shirt seamlessly, his thumb drawing maddening circles into the skin. Your breath catches, even as your arousal hikes.

"What about you?" He whispers the question between his kisses as he mouths along your jaw again, finding that same damn spot on your neck again. It'll be violet coloured by the morning. "Do I get to see something I'll like?"

He's asking permission. It takes a long moment to realise that—too distracted between the touch of his fingertips skating across your skin and the addicting feel of his lips against your pulse.

You nod without thinking.

Steve pulls your shirt up no more than a few inches before your brain catches back up. Your hand moves abruptly, grabbing his hand and yanking it and your shirt back down in a split second.

Steve's halting in an instant, pulling back from working lovebites on your neck to see what he's done wrong. There's a string of spit connecting his lips to your neck.

Steve frowns in concern, shifting his hand up wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, as he makes an effort to put a little distance between you.

"You okay?" He asks. You're still holding his wrist, which is still holding the edge of your shirt. "What happened?"

Your mouth opens uselessly and closes. You know precisely why you had stopped him and now you're facing up with the fact you have to tell him, lest Steve believe you're actually having second thoughts over being with him.

It's just... you've probably spent far too many hours in the mirror. You've seen it from every angle. Seen it in every lighting. You can't quite ever seem to make your body look good.

You don't look like any of the girls Steve's been with in the past.

Comparison is killer, you're aware of this, but infuriatingly you just can't seem to stop. You think of what Steve will see the moment he gets your shirt off, what he'll realise, and your hand tightens around his wrist subconsciously. Your throat tightens up too.

Steve's face melts into a softer expression, eyes big. "Hey, hey, it's totally fine if you said one thing and- and you realise that you didn't mean it, it's okay."

Words continue to evade you and humiliatingly, it feels more likely that tears will escape you before any explanation will. He's being so nice.

"But..." Steve continues, his tone wary as if aware he's treading on uneven ground. "You seemed like you were into it. Like, comfortable, I mean. Then it was like a flip switched and you froze."

"I-" You finally find your voice. You clear your throat as you try to find the right words, breaking Steve's intense gaze to study the ceiling.

This is worse. This has got to be worse that just Steve taking your shirt off and being disappointed because— because you're goddamn building up to it. Your eyes screw shut and you decide it's better to rip the band-aid off.

"I'm just," You can't quite keep the quiver out of your voice. "I'm not like- like girls you've dated before."

Steve makes a noise of confusion and it's enough to force your eyes open. You glance down, taking in Steve's adorably furrowed brow.

"Okay...?" He says, clearly still a bit confused.

"I mean, Steve," You say, voice a little steadier. Your hand around his wrist finally remembers to relax.

You release the hold on him and tuck your hand under your shirt discretely, covering the skin of your stomach you know is warped with stretch marks. "I don't look like the girls you've dated before. My- my body is different."

The wrinkle between Steve's brow shifts, moving from confused to something a little harsher.

"So?"

You blink. Of all the possibilities that you had run, not one of them had ended with Steve saying that.

"So?" You echo meekly. "So... so you might be like, I don't know, disappointed or think—mfh"

The words get smushed beneath Steve's fervent kiss, stealing one kiss off your lips and all your words with it. You blink up at him again, all your endless arguments of why Steve would be so disappointed suddenly silenced.

Steve grins, evidently pleased with his reaction.

Tentatively, moving slowly so you could intervene if you wished, he drags his hand along the sheets and onto your hip again. This time, however, he pushes the fabric of your shirt up and doesn't pause til it's bunched up, most of your torso on show.

Your nerves gather, gnawing at the edges of your chest. You can't bring yourself to move the hand that's trying to hide part of you, even if a dozen other stretch marks are visible now.

Then Steve leans down and he kisses your skin, right in the middle of your tummy.

"I think," He says, lips dragging across your skin and setting it aflame. He's looking up at your through his lashes, your gazes locked, his eyes dark. Another kiss, this time longer, with just a flash of tongue. "You're hot shit."

Instinct makes you want to scoff. But Steve says it so seriously that you almost believe him off the bat. Believe that he believes that.

He lowers himself onto his elbows, letting both of his large hands settle onto your waist, fingers pressing into the skin lightly. You shiver at the feeling and start to consider the possibility that he actually does think that.

"And I will gladly," He punctuates the word with another kiss, this one evolving into a soft, sensual lick up towards your breasts which peak lustfully in response. Your breath hitches. "Spend all the time needed if you need some convincing of that."

His hands move, sliding down til he's gently knocking yours aside, big warms hands spread across your hips. His thumbs are moving, drawing soft motions down, you realise, towards your waistband. Your pulse jumps between your legs, the heat in your body uncaring about the brief interruption.

Steve kisses your tummy again, further down this time. You acutely realise you've got Steve Harrington between your thighs, looking up at you with darkened eyes and promising filthy things with his fingers. Or mouth. Both if you're lucky.

"So," Steve murmurs, voice raspy and low. His thumbs slip beneath your waistband, just an inch. "You gonna let me convince you?"

You're feeling pretty damn lucky.

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darlingsfandom · 26 days ago

Text

Behind Closed Doors.

anon: could you please do a fem-dom reader x emperor geta fic please? 🙏

TW: mommy kink, tit sucking, cum eating! Not proofread.

pairing: fem dom x sub emperor geta!

Candlelight illuminated the walls of the room that you stood in waiting for emperor Geta. He had asked for you personally but this was not the first time he’s requested you, nor was it the second time in face he was obsessed with you so much that’s why you were standing in his room.

The door bursted open to reveal Geta standing there with an angered expression. You stood up to approach him as he walked up to you.

“Geta..” you tilted your head upwards instead of bowing to you.

“What is it you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about my emperor, I’m simply standing here at your request.” His hand reached for your throat but you grabbed his hand instead and pushed it away while giving him that stern look. “Don’t start something you know you can’t finish Geta.” You flicked your tongue.

Geta ruled over the Roman Empire with his twin brother but to the people of the beautiful city Geta was the more powerful twin who struck fear in those who dared crossed him, but not you. You never feared him. He was handsome that was true but he’s just a scared little boy and you knew it.

He stood toe to toe with you with angered fists. “How dare you! How dare you go around sleeping with other men when you belong to me!” He spat in your face making you laugh before you gripped his jaw tightly and pulled him forward until your noses touched.

“You have it all wrong! You belong to me Geta! You are MINE!” You pressed your lips hard against his making him melt. “Now stop listening to those who whisper sinful things about me into your ear, only I know what I’ve done and what I’ve done is make you mine.” You licked his cheek before gripping his throat. A smirk slowly spread across his face as you tightened your grip. Geta would never let it be known that you had control over him because how could he? He’s the emperor after all .

“If I am yours, then why are sleeping with other men of less power?” His words stung at your core making you press on his Adam’s apple before letting go.

“I see you have no trust in me.” You stepped away with a pout on your lips. Geta grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. The two of you were nose to nose. Your hand cupped his cheek and your thumb slid over his bottom lip but Geta couldn’t resist and wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently as he looked into your eyes. “What a good boy, I knew you could always be MY good boy.” Your free hand gently stroked his hair making him perk up in pleasure. “Don’t ever doubt me.”

Geta let go of your thumb before he dropped down on his knees. You untied your tunic letting the fabric fall onto the marble floor below you. His hands reached for the fabric before bringing it to his nose to inhale your sacred scent. You watched in awe before he did a double take at your naked form. Geta has seen you naked so many times and yet every time seeing you naked felt like the first time. He wrapped his arm around your leg before rubbing his cheek against your plushy thigh.

“Please forgive me my beautiful goddess, I have been mislead by false information. How could I have been such a fool?” Your fingers trailed through his fiery locks before giving them a soft tug. He yelped before looking into your eyes.

“Let’s not forget who’s really in charge Geta, if you want my forgiveness you must endure the pleasure that is pain.” You smacked his face hard enough for him to whimper and hold his cheek before you pulled back your leg leaving him sitting there with wet eyes. Geta waited until you signaled him back over to you. He crawled over on his hands and knees until he was at your feet.

Your legs were spread open as you laid on his bed. The sheets were silky against your skin, the best. You looked down at the emperor before placing your foot on his shoulder. Gets quickly grabbed your ankle and started kissing all around it before making his way up your leg, across your calves and inbetween your thighs.

“Eat my pussy and maybe I’ll forgive you.”

Geta kissed your inner thighs before trying to sneak in a love bite to mark you but you swatted the back of his head for doing so. His lips made their way to find your cunt and when he did he dove right in. The tip of his tongue swirled inside of your pussy making you moan. Geta loved giving you oral, you tasted delicious and the way you’d moan out for him was music to his ears but when you’re in charge… he loved it even more. Your fingers pulled on his hair tightly as you moved your hips up and down feverishly using his mouth for your own pleasure.

“Such a good boy for mommy.” Your words made him shiver in delight as he hummed against your cunt. “Now stand up and take off that robe.” Geta scrambled to his feet in excitement before ridding himself of the white fabric. His cock was aching, just how you wanted it. You sat up straight before licking your hand and wrapping it around his cock.

“That feels good mommy.” Geta whimpered as you pumped his cock slowly. You watched as his knees buckled while you teased his aching cock. You leaned forward to drool onto the head of his cock. The spit mixed with his precum made him slick. Geta whined as he started to buck his hips forward.

“No no, you hold still.” You hissed at him before smacking his cock hard. Geta yelped before nodding quickly before holding still. You stood up straight face to face before you gripped his cock tightly making him gasp as you twisted it slightly before letting it go, placing your hands on his shoulders and pushing him back on the bed. Geta’s cock jumped with excitement as you straddled his lap. You sank yourself down onto his cock making him drool.!

“Best cunt in all of Rome mommy.” Geta held your hips until you took them and placed them on your tits. His fingers toyed with your nipples.

“Good boy Geta, playing with my tits, suck on them!” Your body bent forward so his mouth could reach your nipples. He eagerly sucked on your nipple while he played with the other one while you slowly started riding his cock. The faster you rode his cock the harder he sucked on your nipples. He switched back and forth between the two making sure to show each of them how much he loved them. Geta kept eye contact with you as you swiveled your hips in a way he’s never felt before. He gasped letting go of your tits. He admired how wet and swollen they looked for a minute until the feeling of your cunt squeezing him flooded his brain.

“Look at you pretty boy, you look so fucked out and yet I’ve barely fucked you.” Your words were making him whimper as he laid there taking it. Your hands wrapped around his throat making him grin as you rode his cock faster. You were taking him for that he was worth. Geta loved when you were his dom but only you. It’s you! All you!

“Don’t think I can last much longer!” He whispered. His eyes were rolling back in his head as he felt his orgasm building quickly.

“Don’t try to be tough , just let go.” You kissed his face before bitting the side of his jaw. Geta gripped your hips tightly as he came inside of you with loud whimpers.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” He went limp against the sheets as he finished filling your cunt with his cum but the relaxation only last a second before you got off his cock, hovered above his mouth and made him eat his own cum out of your cunt.

“Good fucking boy! That’s it!” You moved your hips to smear your cunt over his mouth. Geta whined as he ate you out tasting his own cum. Your own climax was building as you held his head against your cunt. “Fuck!! I’m cumming !” Your orgasm ripped through you quickly . Your juices came all over his tongue. Geta could taste them mix with his and lapped hungrily at your pussy making sure to get every drop.

You pulled away before bending down to kiss him with your tongue swirling around his mouth. He wrapped his arms around you before pulling you flush against his chest.

“You maybe the emperor Geta, but I hold you powerless.”

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have-you-seen-my-sanity · 5 months ago

Note

Hi, can I have a request? 😇

I just loved your Steven x virgin reader fic, but what if they are both virgins and Marc talks through Steven where to kiss and how to touch 😏

HI! :D

Of course you can, feel free😊

Oooh, sounds like a beautiful idea😏

The guiding voice

Virgin!Steven Grant x virgin!fem!reader

I'm sorry in advance if there are some butchered words, mistakes or other spelling errors, English isn't my native language.

Warnings/Triggers: Loss of virginity, mention of blood, p in v, fingering, Marc being Marc.

Summary: Marc guides Steven through the process of his and your first time.

"Steven, all you have to do is to listen to me."

Steven looked up, seeing Marc's reflection in the mirror. Steven was nervous the whole time and Marc tried to calm him down. When Steven told you he was still a virgin, he got red like a Tomato, too embarrassed for his own good. But when he heard you were one too and saw you getting flashy red he cooled down.

"But I'm afraid I'll hurt her..." Steven chewed on the inside of his lip.

"You're not going to hurt her. Trust me buddy." Marc shot Steven a charming smile "Oh and I mean, you've jerked off before, you know how that feels, but with a woman it feels better, everything's better."

Steven raised his eyebrows at Marc "Lucky you, it must be easy for you sayin' all that, innit."

"Want me to do it?" Marc's words came out dry but he couldn't hide the sound of his amusement.

Steven looked back up at Marc, "What the actual f- you can't be for real now, mate..."

Marc just shrugged like he said the most harmless thing in the world, "Uhh, just saying. Worst case..."

Steven stepped back, checking himself out in the mirror before glancing back at the clock. Steven and you had been dating for quite a while now, he hasn't told you about his mental condition with Marc living rent free in his head, thinking it might scare you off, he planned to tell you about it when you two got something serious though. Steven expected you to knock at his door any minute, you two agreed to take it a step further tonight.

Steven didn't notice Marc admiring him in the reflection, too anxious about the time.

Marc whistled seductively at Steven, "Ouuh, look at that fine Brit. Mr. Grant about to get into business with a girl. Go get her buddy."

Just after Marc said that, there was a knock on the door. Steven turned back to him, "Bloody American." who in return leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and just grinned cheekily at Steven as he went to the door. He opened the door, seeing indeed you standing there with a smile.

"Hi Steven."

Steven beamed, his heart racing wildly in his chest "Wow, you look amazing!" he greeted you excitedly seeing how you blushed instantly.

"Look at this fine gentleman infront of me." You grinned as Steven stepped back to invite you in.

Later that night, you and Steven went into bed together for the next step. Steven was above you, gently kissing you until he heard Marc's voice again

"Quite the catch you got there. Can you feel yourself getting hard? I know I would."

If there was one thing Steven hated about the whole head sharing thing, it was the fact that he couldn't talk back mentally to tell Marc he isn't that inexperienced.

"First, you need to get her all needy. Kiss her neck and work yourself up to kiss the spot behind her ear. Gets the girls purring like a cat."

Steven almost cracked up into a smile at the last part, but he trusted Marc, moving to kiss your neck softly and working his mouth upwards to press a kiss on the sensitive spot behind your ear, which draw a soft moan out of you. Steven smiled internally, pleased with himself knowing he did something good.

"Just like that, and now move one hand slowly down between her legs, start teasing her."

Steven complied, his hand skimmed softly over your skin while wandering down until it was just above the waistline of your panties. Steven continued to kiss you, he loved hearing your noises escape your lips. You don't know how happy it makes him. He dipped the tip of his fingers under the waistband, inching closer to your warm core.

"That's right buddy, keep going, you're doing good." Steven could hear how pleased Marc is with him.

His hand now dipped into your panties, reaching your clit and started to rub it in slow circular motion. You let out a needy moan, getting wetter with every circle he drew and arched into him.

"Oho, you're more experienced?" You asked suddenly, giggling.

Steven pulled back just enough to look at you "Maybe it's natural?" He teased you, feeling more bold now deciding to do the kiss behind your ear again which surprised you, given how good he already makes you feel at rubbing your clit.

"Steven..." You began moaning softly.

Steven rubbed your clit a tad bit faster, he felt the wetness of your juices starting to get on his fingers, which is a very good sign for him.

"Ask her if she's feeling comfy enough to take one of your fingers. One, not all of them." came Marc's voice again.

In response, Steven guided his fingers closer to your wet hole "Are you alright to take one finger?" Steven asked gently with a tiny note of concern for your well being in his voice.

Once you nodded, Steven's index finger pressed gently on your entrance before entering softly.

As you felt his finger stretching you, you let out a short gasp at the intrusion, but it was easier to handle thanks to the fact your entrance was wet, thus making it less uncomfortable.

"You alright love?" Steven asked concerned.

"Yes." You nodded reassuringly.

Steven pumped his finger slowly, making sure it gets coated in your juices.

"Alright buddy, and now add a second finger but do it slow, make sure she's wet enough, rub her clit again if you have to." Was Marc's advice.

"May I add another finger? To get you more prepared, y'know." Steven looked down at you with a soft gaze.

Once you nodded, he moved his thumb to rub your clit again to get the wetness pooling before he prepped his middle finger at your entrance, coating the tip with your juices and slowly joined his index finger, stretching your hole. Given the thickness of two of his fingers stretching you, you felt a slight uncomfortable sting but it got better when Steven started moving his fingers slowly inside of you. When Steven felt you getting more comfortable he slightly sped up his fingers and kissed you again to make it easier for you to forget the stretch.

"Grind yourself against her, use your thigh between her legs to move against her if you have to in order to get more possible friction to make her feel good while making her feel how hard your cock is against her leg." Marc's voice was focused, he genuinely wanted to make it as easy as it gets for you.

"Does it hurt love?" Steven asked, grinding himself against you like Marc said, making sure to brush his one thigh against you as much as possible.

"No, it's bearable." You replied, letting out soft moans as the wetness made you feel get a good feeling from Steven's fingers and his rubbing on your clit. At the feeling of Steven's hard erection rubbing on you, you felt yourself getting more wet if it was even possible and lifted your knee up, getting a heavier pressure on Steven's erection which made him moan at the surprise.

"Gettin' a bit eager are we, love." Steven teased, leaning in to kiss your neck again and biting down gently, causing you to tighten around his fingers. Steven felt it, and when you got comfortable again he felt how you've got used to something bigger inserted into you.

"You think she's ready for you, bud?" Steven heard Marc's voice again.

"Love, you think you're ready for me?" Steven asked you, slowing down his fingers.

"Yes, I think I am." You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him to get better access as Steven slowly pulled his fingers out of you, making sure to not hurt you.

Before Steven could get his aching cock out, he heard Marc chime in again "You okay with blood, right?"

Steven paused, looking back to his little bathroom mirror to look at Marc, giving him a curt nod.

He saw Marc nodding in response before turning his attention back to you and pulling his cock out. Obviously his dick is bigger than his fingers, so when he caught you looking, he gently reassured you "Don't worry love, I'll be slow for you, gonna be as patient as you need me too."

"Thanks, Steven." You smiled softly, knowing you're in good hands.

"She likes what she sees, otherwise she didn't stare at it like that." Marc was teasing, he could hear the literal grin in his voice and Steven knew he couldn't just talk back at him in order to not scare you.

Steven slowly pulled off your panties and positioned himself between your legs but before he could get any further he heard Marc again

"Please do me a favor and don't miss it, just point it at the wet leaking hole."

Steven wished he could whack Marc mentally sometimes. He continued moving his cock to your entrance and gently nudged it with the tip.

"Alright buddy, now enter her slowly, if she makes an uncomfortable noise stop for a second, maybe ask if she's alright and then continue."

Steven obeyed, he pushed inside slowly, inch by inch. He couldn't help but moan at the tightness of you around him, loving how it felt.

"At one point she will hiss or something and you'll feel and see blood, 'cause congratulations you broke her Hymen. It'll bleed for a while before it stops, so don't panic."

Steven's girth stretched you, more than his fingers and you felt a stingy stretch slowly creeping up, making you tense a bit and gasp.

"Get her more wet. Rub her clit again, it will make it easier." Marc chimed in again.

"It's okay love, it's okay, 'm here." Steven cooed softly, proceeding to rub your clit again.

His cock stretched you further the more he pushed in, the sting was more prominent now but it was bearable with the wetness from Steven rubbing your clit.

When Steven pushed further and more of his thickness inside you felt a sharp sting, feeling like something has ripped inside you, and a second liquidy feeling getting mixed in, feeling thicker and warmer, it caused you to tense and let out a soft yelp, your eyes were watering up a bit at the pain.

Steven immediately stopped his movements, looking down to see some blood coating his cock, "It's okay love, you know what this means, right? It can't get any worse now." He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you and wiping away some tears that had escaped your eyes "I'm proud of you, you were so brave."

He saw you smiling back at him, then asked "Want me to wash the blood off, love?"

"No, the blood is alright, we will clean up later anyways." You smiled.

Steven nodded, starting to move again. The stingy feeling was still there, but your wetness soothed it, allowing you to relax.

"There you go buddy, you popped her cherry. Made her a real woman now." It was Marc again. Oh how badly Steven wished he could talk back to him, sometimes Marc acted like an asshole, and when he did, the little American inside his head really started to get going at it.

Soon, as Steven continued to move you felt the sting getting replaced by a more pleasurable feeling, one that made your brain go numb.

"Steven..." You moaned, arching your hips up at him.

"Starting to feel good, yeah?" Steven teased, increasing his speed "God, you feel incredible love. So good."

You could feel something inside building up, the faster Steven moved, the faster it approached you, "Steven, I-I think I'm close." You moaned, breathing heavily at your impending release.

"Gettin' close too, love." Steven grunted, his pace increasing even more as he was now pounding into you, loving the tight sensation of your hole around his cock.

Before you knew it, the sensation became too much and you felt yourself tightening around Steven, gushing all over his cock while your eyes rolled back into your skull. Steven lost it the moment he felt you squeezing his cock, his orgasm was inevitable and he allowed himself to shoot his sticky load into you. He held himself inside you for a couple seconds before he pulled out, letting the fluid mess between your legs drop onto the towel under you.

"That was so intense." Your chest was heaving.

Steven rolled off onto the side, facing you "It was unbelievable. You did so perfect, love." He leaned in and kissed your forehead.

Both of you laid there, calming down from the lovemaking before you broke the silence "Shouldn't we clean ourselves up?" You giggled.

Steven snapped back to reality, his mind was still clouded with the experience they shared "Yeah, right." He chuckled, standing up and extending his hand for you to pull you up before grabbing the towel, and heading to the bathroom to clean up.

After the cleanup, you changed into your sleeping clothes, heading straight for the bed and occupying it before wrapping yourself up in the soft covers. When Steven returned he saw you already sleeping with a soft smile on your face. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head, looking back at the mirror to confront Marc, who gave him a dirty smile in return.

"I'm already scared on what you're about to say, Marc. Judging from your smile." Steven said.

"Did it feel good?" Marc couldn't resist but ask.

"Bloody hell..." Steven sighed, it sounded like the sigh someone would make as if they'd question their own existence "You're a freakin' pig, mate."

"I am just curious." Marc defended himself "Will you introduce me to her?"

Steven cracked into a smile "Of course. I'll introduce the little American man living rent free in my head."

Marc beamed, happy with the answer "Thanks!" He replied, visible excited.

Steven looked back at your sleeping from, walking around the bed to the other side to lay down beside you. "She took all the covers."

"Happy wife, happy life. Don't you dare wake her up." Came Marc's response.

Steven almost choked, "Hap- what?!"

"It's as simple as that, buddy." Marc just grinned at Steven.

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #steven grant x reader #oscar isaac

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