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kiss-me-cill-me · 3 months

Note

prof!crane x student!reader

they haven’t fucked in a while because of summer break or something and when they finally see each other again in college reader’s getting attention from a lot of guys and crane gets super jealous something along those lines, i just your imagination more than mine! <3

smut ofc ;)

thank u lovey 💌

Yesssss I love Professor!Crane and I love this idea hehe 👀 I decided to go with one really annoying guy giving reader attention instead of a bunch, because that's just the way the muse ended up taking me. Thank you for requesting, anon, and I hope you enjoy!!

Independent Variable

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After you catch the eye of an unwanted admirer in Dr. Crane's class, your professor happily teaches you a lesson about just who you belong to.

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, possessiveness, jealousy, harassment (not from Crane, but a pushy student in reader's class), okay Crane is kinda a jerk as well but like when is he not...

A/N: This fic is part of a series of oneshots set in the same AU. However, there is no real plot aside from Crane and the reader being horny, so you can read them in any order, skip around, etc.

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

You tossed a notebook onto your desk, and leaned back down to rustle through your bookbag, looking for a pen. As you did, you felt your dress ride up in the back, but made no move to adjust it.

“Hey,” said a voice behind you.

You shot up quickly and spun around, embarrassment flooding your cheeks at the thought of the unfamiliar man standing there, catching a glimpse of something he shouldn’t have.

“Is this seat taken?”

Your shoulders relaxed as you got a real look at him. The student in front of you looked like he might have just rolled out of bed, despite the fact that this was a 2pm class. His eyes were half-lidded as he gestured at the seat next to you, and you shook your head with a small, friendly smile.

“No, go ahead,” you replied.

As you both settled into your seats, you reminded yourself to pay more attention to your surroundings. Your thoughts had been wandering, almost without noticing it, to your professor.

Dr. Crane had been on your mind for the entirety of spring break, and being back in his class now was making it even harder to focus on anything else.

You snuck a brief look at him now, sitting quietly at the front of the room. He was hunched over, grading a stack of papers while he waited for the rest of your classmates to trickle in. It had been only a little over a week since you’d last seen him - and he had given you quite an intimate send-off to make sure you kept him in mind over spring break. But, unfortunately for you, it had only made sure that you’d had nothing but Dr. Crane on your mind for the whole week. Rather than satisfy you, his extra attention only increased your desire. This was your final class of the day, and you’d made plans to see him right after, as you usually did.

“Hey, did you just transfer into this class?” asked the boy next to you. You swiveled around to face him, slumped in his seat and smiling at you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“No, I’ve been here,” you said curtly, though trying not to let too much annoyance creep into your voice. You weren’t really interested in light conversation, but it wasn’t his fault for trying to be friendly.

“Really,” droned the boy. It was less of a question than an advance. “I woulda thought I’d have noticed someone like you.”

Okay, maybe he was slightly less-than-innocent. And entirely too friendly, if you weren’t just imagining the hint of suggestion in his voice. You pressed your lips into a tight smile, suddenly regretting the fact that you’d let him sit next to you.

“Is this your first class with Professor Crane?” he continued.

“Um, no…” you replied, not really wanting to keep the conversation going, but somehow already too trapped to just ignore him.

“Heh, poor you,” said the boy. “I hear he’s the type that likes to fuck people over.”

You had to bite back a laugh. Somehow you doubted that any of Crane’s other students were getting “fucked over” in exactly the same way you were.

When you glanced over again at your professor, his eyes met yours briefly before darting back down to the stack of papers in front of him. The lingering frost of his stare made your toes curl.

“I like his classes,” you hummed, wary of letting your voice take on too much of the airy, dream-like quality that it often did when you thought about Crane. “I find them… stimulating.”

“Brave girl. You must be smart, huh?”

Before you had a chance to answer, Dr. Crane called the class to attention. As he launched into his welcome-back speech - short and to the point before he got on with the actual lesson - you let out a sigh of relief. You were thankful that this particular awkward interaction would be brief. After this class, you were never going to let this guy sit next to you again.

Ten minutes into the lecture, though, you felt a hand brush over your arm.

“Hey,” breathed the guy, his voice hissing all too close to your ear. “Do you have an eraser? I forgot mine.”

You hummed, too low for him to hear it, but with your teeth grating in anger. Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? His hand rested on your arm, and you wanted to pull back and shake it off. Instead, you straightened your back and kept your eyes facing forward.

“No,” you spit back. “I take notes in pen.”

“Ooh, you are smart,” the boy teased, his tone somewhere just past the point of sincere flattery. “Don’t make any mistakes, do you?”

Your teeth mashed together a bit more.

“No wonder you sit in the front row-”

Your one-sided conversation was disrupted, abruptly, by a firm hand slamming down on each desk. You and the boy looked up together, to see Dr. Crane looming over you.

“Is there a problem here?” Crane asked.

“Uhh… no sir,” the boy answered.

You felt molten heat start to pool in your lap, weaving its way in between your legs. As your eyes trailed up the sleeve of his suit, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself slipping it off of Dr. Crane’s shoulders and throwing it into a corner of the room. This really wasn’t the time or place, much less the ideal situation to be fantasizing in. But the hint of strained possessiveness in his voice had shaken all other thoughts from your head.

“Let’s try to keep personal conversations to a minimum during class,” Crane suggested. He slinked back to his post at the lecturer’s podium.

You almost wanted to fan yourself with your notebook, but resisted the urge. Beside you, the boy let out a petulant grunt, and buried his face in his notes.

As much as you tried to focus on the lesson, you couldn’t help but notice every time Crane’s eyes strayed over to you, studying and astute. Usually he tried not to be so obvious about it. But you caught him staring at you so many times that you started to feel nervous that the rest of the class would notice it too. Somewhere deep in your chest, the thought made your heart flutter.

Unfortunately, you also noticed the multiple times the boy next to you poked and nudged you - always just subtly enough that you couldn’t call him out. His elbow touched yours as he turned to a new page. His foot drifted over to bump gently against the side of your bag on the floor. It was enough to drive you up a wall, but not enough to make a scene.

When class ended, finally, you all but shoved your notebook into your bag, and shot up from your seat like it was on fire. Somehow, Crane was faster than you, and you caught a glimpse of him slipping out of the room as you hurried to follow after.

“Hey! Wait up,” called the guy sitting next to you.

Shit. Not him again. You walked faster, stepping out into the hallway and darting around other students who were still milling about as you made your way to Crane’s office. You were supposed to meet him there, and you really wished you wouldn’t have an annoying little tagalong with you by the time you arrived.

“Where’re you going?” pestered an all too familiar voice.

You didn’t answer, and kept yourself focused on making it to Crane’s office. The walk wasn’t long, but when you arrived there was no sign of Crane. His door was open, though, and you hurried the last few steps to reach it.

“Hey!” the guy called behind you, again. Couldn't he take a hint?

You felt his hand on your arm, and this time you nearly did yank it away. The sheer shock of being touched stopped you, though, and you whirled around to face him, practically seething. The petulant look on his face fueled your anger, and you opened your venomous mouth to speak just as he interrupted you.

“You’re being so rude!” he complained. “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

That sent your brain for a spin. You were the one being rude? When he had just spent an entire class harassing you? You opened your mouth again, but this time, you didn’t have to speak.

“Have you considered that maybe she just isn’t interested in talking to you?”

You would recognize that slightly smug voice anywhere, and you were incredibly glad to hear it. Instantly, your shoulders relaxed as you looked up to see Crane, a piping hot mug in one hand as he idly bobbed a teabag up and down with the other.

“Wh-what?” the annoying boy stammered.

“Is something the matter?” Crane continued, not bothering to acknowledge the question. “I can’t say I appreciate you interrupting my lesson with your unfortunate attempt at… well, whatever it is you were trying to do.”

Clearly at a loss, the boy’s grip on your arm weakened as he tried to come up with a response. You tried to keep yourself from smiling. Too obviously, anyway. And just past the point where the silence had started to stretch into hopelessness, Crane spoke again.

“Well. If you wouldn’t mind moving, I have a private tutoring session to attend with your classmate here.” He gestured at you. “And you’re blocking my door.”

The boy stepped back, finally letting go of your arm in the process. His scowl was a poor retort to the authority that Crane seemed to exude even as he took a disinterested sip of his tea. You felt something stir inside you again, and you suddenly couldn’t wait to get behind closed doors with your professor. Not just because it meant getting away from this situation. And certainly not for a tutoring session.

“Thank you,” Crane said politely.

He ushered you into his office, careful not to touch you in any overt ways. But even as his hand lingered a few inches away from the small of your back, you could practically feel the energy passing between you. He was so going to get it as soon as that door was closed.

“And next time,” Crane said, turning briefly to shut the door, “I’m docking five points from your grade for every disruption in class.”

With a quick click, the door closed, and you were finally left alone with your professor. You could hear a harsh swear and the stomp of angry feet in the hallway, as the boy from class sulked away. You smiled, and took a step closer to Crane.

“Thank you,” you sighed. “You have no idea how I-”

You’d started to bring your arms up to wrap loosely around his shoulders, but Crane stopped you before you could, to your surprise. Hooking a finger under your chin, he forced you to stop short and looked at you shrewdly.

“I see you made a new friend over spring break,” he observed.

“Ugh. Yuck - no,” you laughed, still trying to wiggle closer so that you could hug him. “That guy was so annoying.”

“Annoying, hm?” Crane hummed. “Maybe I’ll have to start using assigned seats.”

He dropped your chin, and brushed past you while taking a sip of his tea. As he set the mug down on his desk, you spun around to see him settle into his huge leather office chair. You followed, swaying your hips a bit to tease him.

“Just as long as you keep me in the front row,” you said, half-jokingly.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want you getting distracted by anyone else, now would we?” Crane droned.

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, he looked up and crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to come closer. You did, and just as you came to a stop in front of him, Crane grabbed your wrist.

“Actually, I think I might have to move your seat a bit closer than that,” he mused.

Just as you were about to question what could be closer to him than the front row, he turned you around and pulled you down into his lap, making the hair on the back of your neck bristle as he pressed the side of his face against yours.

“After today, I’m starting to think that I’ll need to keep a closer eye on you,” Crane whispered huskily.

As his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you even closer, you squirmed.

“I wasn’t doing anything, though,” you protested. “It was all him.”

It occurred to you that you didn’t even know the rude boy’s name, and the thought made your cheeks heat up. Would that make Crane more annoyed, or less? He must have seen how bothered you were by the unwanted advances in class. Clearly, he was just teasing you, as he so often loved to do. But… what if he really was jealous, and thought you would flirt with anyone who gave you attention?

Slowly, you became aware of a growing bulge, now pressing up into your thigh. Okay, maybe you liked jealous Crane…

“You don’t really think that anything would happen between me and that guy, do you?” you gasped, playing up the shock in your voice.

You felt your back press fully into his chest as he tightened his arms again, pulling you in.

“Do you know what kind of game you’re playing?” Crane scowled behind you.

You did, and you knew that he knew it, too. Just like you knew he was fully aware that you were only playing dumb. But, that had never stopped either of you from having a bit of fun with it.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you sighed, grinding your hips down as your head leaned back to rest on his shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll have to show you then.”

With that, Crane’s hand pushed up the hem of your skirt, swiftly pressing past the fabric of your panties to rub at your slit.

“You’re wet,” he growled. “This had better be from me.”

You didn’t even try to hide the shiver that moved down your spine and straight to his cock, making your hips twist against him again. The armrests of his chair were the only thing available to brace yourself against, and you clutched at them.

Crane swirled his fingers against you again, his other arm keeping you pinned to his lap, and you lost the fight to hold back a shaky breath.

“Already worked up,” he observed. “Were you even paying attention in class?”

“Y-yes,” you insisted.

“Hm.”

Crane forced his hand into the very limited space between your body and his, quickly freeing himself and pressing his now fully-erect cock in between your legs. As you felt it brush against your thighs, you couldn’t help but buck your hips, trying to get a better angle. Crane stilled you, bringing his lips close to your ear as he held you in place.

“Somehow I doubt you were really focusing on the lecture,” he said. “So, I think you and I will have to go over it again. But first…”

He held your panties to the side, repositioning so he could slide himself fully inside of your cunt. It was embarrassing how easily he was able to - your walls offering hardly any resistance as he pressed in.

“Enjoy your new assigned seat.”

You let out a moan as you started to move up and down, slowly at first to warm up to the stretch of him. Almost as soon as you’d started, though, Crane stopped you, hugging you suffocatingly close so that you couldn’t so much as wiggle your hips.

“No fidgeting in class,” he warned.

You huffed impatiently; the ache that was steadily growing between your legs only somewhat quelled by the way he filled you.

“But we’re not in class,” you protested.

“Didn’t I just tell you?” Crane hissed. “We’re going back over the material. Now…”

He leaned forward to reach for a textbook on his desk, and the small movement caused him to shift just enough to give you a hint of the stimulation you needed. But too soon, it was gone, and Crane had settled back into his chair with you still trapped on his lap, stretched and desperate for friction.

“Do you remember what today’s lesson was about?” he asked wickedly. “Or was your mind already wandering by the time I started talking?”

It was nearly impossible to focus with his voice dripping into your ear like that, and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you were seeing stars. But, you summoned up every last once of attention you could muster to answer him.

“C-clinical trial procedures for use with SSRIs,” you said, grinding your teeth.

“Hm. It almost seems like you were paying attention.”

“I was,” you agreed, quickly seizing the opportunity. “I even took notes. I can show you-”

“Taking notes just proves you can copy down words from a chalkboard,” he interrupted. “I want to make sure you really absorbed the information.”

He punctuated the word with his hips, thrusting up just enough for you to feel it, but so shallow that you couldn’t enjoy the effects for more than a second. You groaned, and felt Crane’s smirk against the shell of your ear.

“Why don’t we open our books to page three hundred and thirty-eight?” he droned, using the same flat, carefully-recited voice that he always did in class. Hearing it so close to your ear made your walls flutter around him, and Crane tapped a finger impatiently on the textbook in front of you, not letting up.

“Can’t you just fuck me?” you whined, not caring how petulant your voice sounded.

“What makes you think I’m going to do that?”

You wished that you weren’t turned away from him, if only so Crane could see the look of utter disbelief on your face. He was balls-deep inside of you, and asking why you thought he was going to fuck you? As if you were sitting across from each other, having an actual tutoring session, and not nearly cumming around his cock.

If only he would let you move.

As you sighed with frustration, an idea came to you. There was one way you could torture him back.

You flexed your muscles, staying perfectly still while your walls squeezed his whole length. You thought you felt him twitch slightly, just a little involuntary movement. But it was hard to tell when your mind was already filling up with thoughts of the way he was sure to bend you over his desk and thoroughly destroy you once you had given him enough incentive.

“C’mon,” you sighed. “Why hold back when you’re obviously dying to make me remember whose cock makes me fall apart? You’re so jealous.”

The smug smile was quickly wiped off your face as Crane’s hands tightened around your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“You think I’m jealous?”

He roughly swirled your hips, not giving you nearly enough friction, but still making you cry out. You wanted to scream for him to touch your clit, move you up and down - do anything. The torture of feeling him inside you, stretching you out with so little movement, was making your whole body burn. And most of the heat was starting to focus right between your legs, on the neglected bundle of nerves that was begging for attention.

“You think it drives me insane to watch someone else touch you?” He moved your hips again, and you felt a sharp pang of frustration. “That I don’t like it when someone else tries to take what’s mine?”

His last word was practically a growl, and you felt yourself clench again, not on purpose this time. The low hiss of his voice in your ear was almost enough to make you come undone, if only he would give you even the briefest hint of physical stimulation where you needed it.

You focused on squeezing him again, rubbing your legs together as much as you could.

“Don’t make me beg,” you pleaded.

“Oh no, sweetheart - you don’t have to beg. Like you said, I’m going to show you just who you belong to.”

With that, Crane’s hips shot up as he bit down harshly on the lobe of your ear. You were shocked to feel warmth spreading deep inside of you - you hadn’t even realized he was close. As he pressed deeper, one of his hands came up to squeeze roughly at your breast, and your mouth fell open.

You sat there together for a moment, Crane breathing a bit more heavily than he had been a few seconds ago. Eventually, you made a move to get up.

“I can’t believe you’re so petty,” you started.

Before you could stand up more than a fraction of an inch, Crane’s hold tightened on you again.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“To clean up.”

You could feel his cum starting to leak out of you slowly. It dripped down the shaft of his cock, still buried inside you and keeping most of the mess contained.

“I don’t think so,” he said, calmly. He pulled you back, pinning you right where you had been before. “You’re staying right here until we’ve gone over the lesson. And if you still can’t pay attention…” He swirled your hips again in that deliciously infuriating way. “Then I guess we’ll be here for a very long time.”

“You’re infuriating,” you sighed. “I didn’t even do anything wrong!”

“What a shame. Now, where were we?”

As Crane reached forward again to open the textbook, his still-hard cock brushed against your slick walls. You tried to hold back the moan that escaped your lips, but you could feel every inch of him still inside you, and it was no use trying to stop yourself.

Crane brought his lips to your ear as he started to lecture, and you shivered.

Taglist: @cillianslvt, @cillmequick, @dynamitehacke, @franzine-xii, @hanawrites404, @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch, @littlewinter1917, @mothhball, @nnattu, @nocturnest, @red-riding-wood, @sea-star-of-the-ocean, @slut4thebroken

#cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane smut #cillian x reader #LemmyFics

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dontexpectmuch · 30 days

Text

i know how much you guys love this series, so i give you a new part. this one how ever will be;

comments/feedback is highly appreciated! please, im getting desperate :d

Habits Jude Bellingham might develop before you guys get into a relationship!

(a Lost in Madrid drabble!)

it is no secret that jude just loves to talk. he genuinely enjoys it so much to share any and every thought that goes through his mind, no matter how small it might be. he couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but suddenly he found himself on his way to you, a tired student that just wants to finish their work. as soon as he lifts his hand, knocks on your door and enters the room his lips start moving, talking so lively and fast that you need some time to register what is even happening.

“what do you mean ‘m talkin’ your ear off? you literally study literature and shit!” - “it’s more about reading, jude.” you sigh, wishing for any kind of help at this moment.

it is also nothing new for you to receive messages from jude during your quiet evenings when you decide to stay home. jude recently got into sending audio messages, you being his number one victim [forced] friend, whom he shared this new passion with. and most of the times he won’t even say anything important. he’ll just sing a new spanish song he has learned that past week. and he will sing. no matter how terrible it sounds and how much it makes your ears bleed. though, you also always listen to those audios, even though you know what the content will be.

“jude?” opening your door after hearing a desperate knock, you did not think that you would see your [not] friend standing there. he looks tiredly at you, clothes wrinkled and sandals on, “mum wanted me to bring you some cake she baked.” he gives you the tupperware filled with slices of cake, energy low. you feel your shoulders relax as you look up at him, “tell her i love her, please.” he just nods. and even though he always complains to you about how he is not some delivery boy, he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing your soft eyes when you receive food his mum made. it makes him feel giddy inside.

he makes you trip purposely whenever you walk in front of him, and then giggles and jogs away to join the others on the field when you send daggers his way with your glare.

he forces you to play two-touch, even though you have told him multiple times already that you cannot play really well. he quite literally forces you to become better, giving you tips while making you pass the ball against the wall back and forth. “i don’t want to do this anymore, jude.” - “well, that’s too damn bad.” his gaze serious as he corrects your form once more. “bitch.” you murmur under your breath, praying for him to just disappear somewhere and leave you alone.

“what?” you ask as you look up from your notes, eyes wide as you watch jude place a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll onto your desk. “i heard that you like sweets, or whatever.” he says, [desperately] wanting to look cool. your heart starts to pick up in speed when you look back and forth between jude and the things he just gave you, warmth spreading through your body. “thanks.”

“watch me.” he smirks at you, who looks quite annoyed tired at him. “i’ll hit this first time.” - “like you did to me on my first day here?” - “dude! i told you not to talk about it anymore, ‘t’s a sensitive topic for me, ‘kay?”

heartfelt conversations between you are not as rare as one might think. whenever jude comes to you to talk your ear off while toi work on your research, you sometimes tell him about your own stuff. that leads to various topics you two discuss, which also results in sharing some intimate thoughts. it makes jude, who usually looks so confident and well put together, look more human, like a 20 year old guy who also learns something new every day.

—————————————

surpriseee! hope you like it!! :)

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #football one shot #x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #lostinmadrid #relationship

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astraystayyh · 7 months

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₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ winter falls

I'm so excited to announce this collab series with my @forlix where we'll be posting winter themed fics for each one of the boys!!!!! brainstorming these with xi was the most fun ever i hope you'll enjoy our collab (alternatively named dead dick december)

all the fics, except for Chan's, Minho’s and Han's are with a gender neutral reader.

minors & ageless blogs dni w/han’s fic as it is nsfw!

no holiday is specified by name so you can imagine whatever!

we're also opening a special taglist for the series! you can comment down here or send an ask to either me or xian to be added! (6/8 posted)

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Pieces of you ❆ bang chan @astraystayyh (8.7k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ single dad!chan. neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. [posted: 12/02/24]

In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chan and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

Something has melted ❆ lee minho @forlix

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ spy x family!au, fake dating!au, fluff

Your obnoxious coworkers never get off your ass about how single you are, and your temporary husband is too happy to make them eat their words.

Burning in the winter wind ❆ changbin @astraystayyh (4.4k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort. college!au. [posted: 26/02/24.]

Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

The snow falls, we fall apart ❆ hyunjin @astraystayyh (13k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ roommates to lovers. angst. hurt/comfort. slow burn. longing.

when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

(+18) Empty my mind ❆ han jisung @forlix (6.4k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. [posted: 06/01/24]

For the first time in a long time, Han Jisung has something to lose.

Everything has changed (besides myself) ❆ lee felix @forlix (5.4k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff. [posted: 09/12/2023]

You spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

Warm winter ❆ kim seungmin @forlix

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff

“i don’t deserve you,” he breathes, “but god, i want to.”

Please fall before I fall ❆ jeongin @astraystayyh (2.8k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ childhood best friends to lovers. hint of unrequited love (they're idiots) [posted: 18/01/24]

3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours. (and ended up confessing along the way)

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...titles are all inspired by han's incredible songwriting in Winter Falls, han write a happy song #challengefailed.

#stray kids x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

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writing-in-the-impala · 6 months

Text

Secret Smokes (Part 9)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 5776

A/N: At the end! No spoilers here, but it's a long one so get cosy.

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 9, Next Chapter

Christmas morning began like every year except for the owl. When you made it downstairs there was an owl under the tree from Remus, you picked up the letter and thanked the owl giving it a treat before sending it home. You hadn't heard from Remus since you got home, however you couldn't be upset as you didn't attempt to write to him either. Even though you missed him a lot and you couldn't stop thinking about him life had become quite busy with work, family and your hometown friends. This was the first time you came home and didn't want to flirt with any one or meet anyone as the only person who got your heart to race was Remus. Since you first opened his present you kept re-reading what he wrote, as if you were trying to decipher it. Maybe it was him calling you "dear" and ending it with "yours" that made your heart race, maybe it was simply just the only way to feel close to him. "What's that letter honey?" Your mum asked walking out the kitchen to see you standing holding Remus's most recent letter.

"It's from my friend, I think it's just to thank for the Christmas present I got him."

"Him?" Your mother asked. "I knew those were for a boy she liked!" Your dad chimed in from the sofa. "So who's he?" Your mum asked.

That's when the doubts hit you, you shouldn't get excited by Remus sending you a letter, he's the kind of man you can't tell your parents about. How would you explain to your parents that you got involved with your defence against the dark arts professor and that he's also a werewolf. "Just a friend who's helped me a lot this year. Anybody want coffee?" You asked tucking Remus's letter into your jeans pocket and changing the subject.

When you had a moment after the busy morning you went upstairs to finally open Remus's letter that had occupied your mind all morning. You slowly opened it while sipping on a cup of tea that wasn't as tasty as the ones made by Remus in his office.

"My dearest Y/N,

Merry Christmas. Would it be inappropriate to say smoking or listening to music alone isn't the same? Thank you so much for your present, I've been listening to the vinyl from you on repeat I can't wait to listen to it with you. I hope work is good and your family is well too. Hogwarts is beautiful in the snow I'm glad I stayed but I'll be heading home to York soon - today - so if you would like to reach me please write to:

The Luna Cottage Yorkshire YO22 5AN

No pressure to write however if you do I just don't want you to feel like I'm ignoring your letters.

Yours, as always, Remus"

You wished the letter was longer, that he would tell you more about what he's been doing why he didn't write. You wanted to have a conversation about his day, you decided it was only right to reply to him straight away.

"Moony, Merry Christmas!

I am starting to realise my record collection is boring compared to yours. I'm glad you enjoyed the present, thank you so much for passing on your fathers book, I'm happy to return it to you as soon as I read it as it sounds quite sentimental.

I adore the cigarette tin, I would be lying if I said it hasn't already been useful. The camel and bridge are beautiful however I miss the real bridge.

I'm glad to hear you're enjoying Christmas, don't run to your cottage too quickly enjoy your time in Hogwarts although I do realise how stupid it is to write that as I'm sending it to your cottage.

My family is well and so am I thank you for asking, I do miss the snow in Hogwarts I look forward to coming back after new years.

Speak soon, Y/n"

You sent the letter almost as soon as you wrote it eager to continue this conversation with Remus. You could wait to read his next letter. However it did not arrive for days. Maybe he stayed in Hogwarts you thought, maybe he hasn't had time to send you one, maybe he's too busy...

You waited each day for a letter to arrive but nothing came, New Year's Eve was around the corner and you thought wether to wish him happy new year like you wished him Merry Christmas however you decided against it. The Weasleys had invited you to a New Year's party and you considered not going however you decided maybe it would be good to spent an evening with your school friends as opposed to the home town friends that you saw all Christmas break. The party wasn't at their house but rather a house in London however they assured you pre-drinks will be spent together. You met at their house where you would be spending the night after the party, it was nice to see their parents who always made you feel at home. They asked you many questions about your Christmas break and Molly even gave you a new hand knitted scarf as a gift. You hadn't arrived at their house empty handed either as you had a whole tray of home made cookies from your mum which the Weasley boys devoured. "So what's this party we're going to?" You asked the twins.

"It's one of the order parties but it should be fun." Fred began.

"And if we hate it, it's in central London so we can jump ship." George added.

"And we'll still see the muggle fireworks from there." Fred finished their joint sentence.

"But isn't everyone in the order like 50 now, I want a new years kiss." You complained

"I'm here." George quickly interrupted.

"I'm the hotter twin and I'm here too." Fred took over.

"See you have two options!"George said with a laugh.

"Three we all know dear Percy would kill for a kiss from you." Fred almost whispered so no one else in the family would hear.

"I don't want to kiss him, or you, or you." You said laughing and pushing them away in a friendly way.

"No you want to kiss your teacher." They both said simultaneously making your face go red.

"Shut up. I prefer people my age."

"Don't lie to us the only person our age you want to snog is Sebastian and he's mostly a rebound for your profesor."

"What did you get him for Christmas?"

"It doesn't matter besides he hasn't spoken to me since Christmas."

"But he wrote to you."

"Just to thank me."

"He still thought of you."

"We've gone off topic so who's gonna be at this party or did I waste my new years by agreeing to this?" You bought the conversation back.

"We promise there will be people you'll want to kiss there, you'll have fun."

"We're sure of it."

"Only thing...."

"'Mum is coming."

"WHAT? This is going to be so lame, a party with your parents?"

"Don't worry, we'll still have fun." He said handing you a shot to drink and all three of you necked it down. You got changed and ready to go out, suddenly you were all looking a lot more like you were going to party, the boys wolf whistled you when you joined them in the living room. By this point nearly the whole family was downstairs including Hermione who was also invited as Harry and Ron were going. When you walked into the room Percy's face seemed to go red, you felt bad as you knew his feelings for you but you just simply didn't feel the same about him. You relaxed in the living room for a bit before all of you traveled to the house the party was taking place at.

It was 12 Grimmauld Place. The home of the Blacks. Sirius Black was the only one left living there however he used the house to throw very extravagant parties, that's what Percy told you anyway. When you arrived it was quite littered with people already, and there was a mix of people older and younger, you spent time with the twins at first as you were a bit shy to start talking to so many strangers. As soon as the alcohol started to get to your head you became a lot more social with everyone around, one of your most interesting conversations was with the host Sirius Black who you clicked with immediately, you ended up in quite a discussion about the London firework display and he promised you could go up to the roof for the fireworks at midnight. You were quite enjoying yourself when you noticed Sirius hugging a man who was apologising for arriving late, he was taking his jacket off when you caught a glimpse of him. Remus J Lupin. He was wearing corduroy trousers, a nice clean fresh Oxford shirt that was a pale blue with a dark vest over it and a long black trench coat. You felt the temperature of the room go up and you needed a distraction so you jumped into a conversation with the twins. "Our teacher is here." You stated to them.

"Your teacher more like." Fred stated with a grin on his face as him and George shared a look.

"You knew." You pointed a finger at them both.

"He's in the order." George explained.

"Close friends with Black. And our parents." Fred finished.

"We didn't know for sure if he would come." They both said in response to your upset face.

"He hasn't replied to my letter." You said quietly.

"Well now you can talk in person." Fred said. You could see Remus but he wasn't looking at you, he was happy, he looked a bit tired but not more than usual, he seemed in his element hugging people hello and chatting with them. After about twenty minutes you both noticed each other he gave you a slight wave from across the room and you waved back while speaking to Hermione. The next hour and a half you spent stealing glances at each other from across the room but not talking even when you stood right next to each other, it felt like an unspoken rule. It was hurting you to watch him talk to an attractive girl from the order and laugh with her, a whole body laugh. You felt jealous, and upset that he didn't even acknowledge you past a small wave.

It was only when you were outside having a smoke with Fred that you finally spoke to Lupin. He was the one who started the conversation, you heard him say "No, no, no. I can't believe that you haven't heard of The Stooges, hold on, Y/N have you heard of the Stooges" he interrupted your conversation but you didn't mind.

"Of course, arguably they were the first punk rock band." You said with a small smile, eyeing the girl he was taking to in a judgmental way.

"Thank you!" Remus said to everyone before turning around to face you. "Hello by the way." He has a gently smile.

"Hi professor, I saw you earlier but didn't want to interrupt." You said hugging him hello, he already smelt like he's drank quite a bit as did you.

"You should've." He said gently in a hush tone, eyes quickly flicking down to your lips then back to your eyes, his breath really smelt like fire whiskey.

"You look nice." You replied.

"I was going to say the same about you." The small smile growing on his lips as his eyes scanned your body.

"Who are you so dressed up for?" You pried hoping the answer doesn't hurt you.

"Sirius." He said in a stern tone and continued once he saw the puzzled look on your face. "He said he was going to hex me if I showed up in the same clothes I wear every day. I don't know if you've met him yet but I believe he genuinely would have."

"I have and I agree, I think you're a wise man." You said with a laugh.

"How was Christmas?" He asked changing the topic.

"You know same, same. Spent most of the time working. What about yours?" You said putting your hands in your pockets awkwardly. When you spoke to him it's like the whole world blurred, like no one else was around you even through your were standing outside the house on a street in central London.

"Christ Y/N, I'm sorry I didn't write back." He simply answered.

"It's okay, I'm sure you were busy." You said hiding your disappointment.

"No, no I wasn't." He said with his own frown on his face. "After Christmas there was a full moon and I was knackered, once I regained energy I had so much to do and I didn't dedicate time to writing back, when I could've, I should've and I'm so sorry." He was leaning on the wall for support as if his guilt was weighing him down.

"How's the cottage?"

"It's cosy, I've been fixing things in it, Hogwarts has meant it stands empty with no one looking after it, so things have broken in my absence." He explained.

"I wish you had time to write while you were there, I had so many questions." You said instead of saying you missed him.

"Have you seen Sebastian Sallow over half term?"

"What?" You shot back in confusion.

"Just wandering as you two are close."

"Not that close." You felt weird about his question, his facial expression was hard to read.

"Fair enough." He replied after a moment of awkward silence.

"Why do you ask?" You pushed.

"Because I thought you two were slowly growing into a relationship, you know I just want the best for you." He didn't make eye contact with you.

"What's the best for me?" You questioned.

"It's not me." He said with an intense stare into your eyes.

"So you don't want me to be with you?" You asked swallowing hard from the anxiety.

"Correct." He answered his body inching closer to you.

"But do you want to be with me?" He looked down at his empty glass after you asked him this.

"What was work like?" He asked changing the topic.

"Answer my question." You pushed.

"Answer mine."

"I asked first."

"Y/N... let's change the subject before one of us gets hurt, let's not ruin new years." He said sounding defeated as he finished the sentence you heard the front door open and saw Sirius there with two drinks in his hand.

"Remus! There you are, I made you a drink." He said in a jolly voice. "Y/N, do you want one too?" He said while handing a drink to Remus.

"It's fine I can go get it myself." You said finishing this the perfect opportunity to leave this conversation with Remus.

"Beautiful, let me show you the main reason why being a magic is the greatest thing ever." Sirius said clicking his fingers and your glass refilled itself. Remus just laughed as if this was an old trick.

"How?" You asked in shock.

"Dear old Sirius has enchanted all the glass to be self re-filling because he's too lazy to stand up and pour himself a drink."

"I didn't know this was possible." You expressed.

"It's a dangerous trick." Remus explained.

"As if you don't love it Moony." Sirius said and you have a puzzled look to the nickname but didn't ask more questions. "Now it looks like you two were having a meaningful chat I don't mean to interrupt."

"You're not, I was just about to head inside." You said.

"Sure you were." Sirius said with a wink. "Enjoy the drink moony, let me know how it tastes later!" Sirius said with a wink at Remus and head tilting to you before he left, luckily for Remus you didn't see this. A moment of silence fell upon both of you again before Remus cleared his throat. "You know all the glasses in my office have this enchantment." He said sitting down on the front door steps.

"Liar, why do you always stand up and make cups of tea if they can refill themselves?"

"I find there's something romantic about doing things the proper way, taking a moment to brew a tea and pour it. It feels like it's the right way to do it. When I'm alone I don't bother to do all the mundane but I like to do it with you." He took last sip of the cocktail he managed to already finish and you watched it magically refill itself.

"So I'm guessing you and Sirius are close?" You asked.

"How'd you guess?"

"He called you moony."

"He's my best friend from school, there's not many of us left after the war." Remus began.

"What do you mean us?"

"My friends from school and I used to call ourselves the Marauders."

"That's so lame." You laughed and he had a nostalgic smile on his face.

"I know. But we were proud of it, we were unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. We used to preform some pranks that created new rules in Hogwarts."

"Not that pillar of morality I thought you were Professor." You winked at him and he laughed.

"Maybe not." His eyes were glued to your lips.

"So what happened?" You asked and his eyes went down to the floor, he cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

"We all grew up but not all of us got to grow old. You see straight after school James and Lilly got married, it was a beautiful day. Not long after Harry was born, we felt like we were on top of the world when we were leaving Hogwarts. But the wizarding war kept getting worse, I struggled for work with my condition so I focused mainly on the order, James and Sirius helped me a lot especially with money, I wouldn't have a home without them. We spent most of our days as part of the Order of the Phoenix, and we were proud, we felt like our little group was part of something special. Then the day when Peter betrayed James and Lilly came, and well you know how the story of that day goes." He said his voice breaking a bit a small tear forming in his eye. "After that day the world rejoiced, war was over, he was gone, but he took James and Lilly with them. Peter, the snitch, sold them out. It was just Sirius and I left." You placed you hand on his knee to comfort him.

"I'm sorry-"

"It's okay. I was hurt that day and I was stupid, I distanced myself from Sirius, and from everyone. I saw the world as cruel, I really treated myself like a victim, felt sorry for myself. Sirius, he saved me. Every full moon he would come to the cottage and make sure I was okay, it was only after a year that I found out when he fell asleep and when I was back to my human form he was still around. He explained he'd come in secret every month just to check in on me. He made me realise the world wasn't so cruel after all." Remus glanced back at the house behind him.

You got a glimpse at a new part of Remus, the Remus who lost friends, the Remus who used to be a boy surrounded by everyone he loved, and you understood why now being in Hogwarts he was so much more lonely than ever before. "It's funny when I met you it felt like meeting the marauders for the first time. If only you were around when I was your age, I think I would've- doesn't matter. I'm sorry for dropping my sob story on you like that." Remus said with a heavy breath.

"Moony I love to hear about your past, Sirius sounds very special... I'm glad you have him."

"I love that boy." He said honestly. "He's my brother for life." He said looking back at the house once again. A calm quiet fell upon you both before you took your cigarette tin out of your pocket, you offered one to Remus and he took it "nice tin." He said with a wink. "Where'd you get it?" He asked while you tried to light your cigarette with your lighter, he lit his with magic obviously.

"This guy got me it, I really thought he liked me because it's so special but I realise now he's just kindhearted and cares about people. It's still one of my favourite gifts though."

"What says those are mutually exclusive?" He questioned while you struggled to light your cigarette as your lighter didn't want to work.

"Can you light it for me?" You asked him gently turning around to him.

"Sure, come here." He motioned for you to get closer to him. And you shifted towards him. "Closer." He instructed. You were confused but listened, you were now inches away from him, his cigarette was in his mouth and yours was in your hand. "Put it in your mouth." He said through the cigarette. "Now come here I'll light it for you." He said quietly. So you leaned in and he lit the cigarette with the one in his mouth, your body felt like it was burning, you could smell the alcohol, you could smell him. Chocolate, cigarettes and an undertone of firewood. He placed a hand on your face to stabilise you and you felt that your cigarette was lit. You pulled away from each other and you took a drag with a shaky breath after the moment you just shared.

You felt his hand grab your chin again and turn your face back to his, his cigarette wasn't in his mouth this time, he began to lean in. "Tell me if you want me to stop." He whispered and your heart raced as you leaned into him and your lips crashed. The kiss was full of lust and longing. He had completely dropped his cigarette as both his hands were now on your face, you dropped yours and raised your hands to touch him. You felt him swoop your whole body to the side and you were suddenly straddling him on the stairs of the house. You felt him, you felt how much he wanted you, you began to slowly grind on him to tease him. His hands began to go up and down your back as you continued to make out, your hands went through his hair, something you wanted to do for a very long time. And then you heard it, the fireworks.

Remus pulled away first, shaken back into reality, you both looked into each others eyes for a few seconds. Silence. The look of complete fear and lust in both your eyes as reality crashed back in. "Happy new year dear." He said quietly.

"Happy new year Moony." Your replied and he gently kissed you on the lips with love rather than lust this time. He slowly moved you off him and stood up, reaching out a hand towards you to help you stand up. "Let's head up to the roof, the view of the fireworks is beautiful up there." He said and you gave him a sad look.

"I'm happy to miss it." You almost whispered.

"We can't. Come on." He said reaching his hand out for you to hold and you followed him holding his hand while walking up the stairs and questioning which part he was referring to with "we can't". You headed back inside and as you passed the mirrors on the stairs Remus fixed his hair, he let go of your hand and you walked side by side upstairs entering the roof quietly. Once upstairs he squeezed your shoulder and walked away from you, he started making the rounds while telling people happy new year starting from some members of the order, moving onto the Weasleys and so on. You just stood there watching him. "Happy new year Y/N. We were looking for you." Fred said. "Are you okay?" He said looking at your confused expression.

"I just kissed our teacher." You said quietly. And Fred laughed and George groaned. "Pay up." Fred said to George and they exchanged money.

"You guys bet on this? You bought me here and you bet on it?" You asked slightly annoyed but also amused.

"Only when I left you outside with him." Fred said defensively. "How do you feel?" George asked. "Relived?" Fred added.

"Horny and confused."

"Poor Percy was looking for you, wanted you to be his new years kiss, he won't be happy to find out." George added.

"No one can know." You said sternly.

"Y/N, your secret is safe with us." George said.

"However we will make fun of you for this." Fred stated.

"Constantly." George added.

"Looks Y/N is not paying attention to us." Fred pointed out as you were starring at Remus and Sirius whispering to each other and Sirius glancing over at you.

"We've lost her, next thing you know she'll be married, she won't speak to us. No time for us." Fred joked. As you continued to watch Remus, who now glanced at you, said bye to Sirius and began to walk over in your direction.

"He's coming over what should I do?" You asked in panic.

"You were the one snogging him, not us." They both said.

"Shut up." You replied and Remus was now close enough to hear. The boys turned around and smiled at him with big grins. "Happy new year professor." The both said.

"Happy new year." He replied gently. "Happy new year Y/N." He said to you pretending as if nothing happened.

"Wait so you didn't even say happy new year to each other?" Fred asked and both you and George slapped him to shut him up.

"I should've known. Sirius also knows." He said he's gesturing behind him to a smiling Sirius who waved at you as soon as you looked over at him.

"Obviously." You said with a gentle smile.

"Do you boys mind if I have a word with Y/N?" Remus asked politely.

"Just don't-" Fred began.

"Fred." You and George said in unison. "Alright nice to see you prof!" Fred said laughing and walking away.

Remus lead you off the roof and down the stairs towards one of the rooms. You didn't ask any questions. He pulled you into a room and you straight away began to make out. You explored each others lips before between kissed Remus began to speak "Let's get one thing straight, this can't happen." He then kissed you again and you tried to push out a "yes" between the kisses. "And no one can find out about this." You nodded and he leaned back in to continue. "And if anyone knew you could get expelled and I could lose my job."

"Yes professor."

"Don't. I go crazy when you call me that." He said biting your lip as he kissed you this time and moving his hands around your whole body. "Now tell me if you want me to leave this room and pretend nothing happened, tell me now and I'll leave and we'll go back to just being professional." He said looking deep into your eyes and you shook your head and leaned in to kiss him. "Good." He whispered before kissing you back, after a moment you moved your hands to his belt and began to unbuckle it. "Not so quickly my dear." He whispered in your ear. "What we're going to do is leave this room, you're going to be a good girl and mingle with your friends, while I make the rounds talking to mine. Then when it's late and everyone is saying goodbye you meet me. That way we don't raise any suspicion about both being gone all night." He explained and you nodded. "Good." He said and he kissed your lips gently before leaving the room. You stood in the dark room alone trying to process everything. After a moment you left the room and continued upstairs, on the stairs you a ran into Percy. "Y/N!" He said cheerfully. "Where have you been all evening?" He asked.

"Oh I've been floating around." You replied trying to keep it vague.

"I was searching for you." He stated.

"It's a big house." You simply replied.

"Why did you leave with professor Lupin after new years?"

"Why are you watching my every move?" You felt like your privacy was invaded.

"We're friends Y/N, I feel like this year you've been running around befriending Slytherins and doing tutoring every day we've barely seen each other." He complained.

"You're exaggerating, besides you're the one who always pushed for me to study more, now I am and you're complaining." You were getting annoyed.

"Are you and the Slytherin boy dating? Is that why you've been avoiding me?" He asked a bit too aggressively.

"Percy. Your jealousy is showing, please go home, go the bed, we'll talk tomorrow." You walked past him towards the roof, he tried to continue the conversation but you didn't turn around to reply.

Upstairs you saw Remus chatting to small group of people, he looked so handsome. You started getting involved in your own conversations however you couldn't resist to look over at Remus constantly, and he kept looking over at you. Each time he would smile, sometimes he'd lightly wink. When Molly and Arthur Weasley were leaving you and the twins said you'll come home later in the evening and they trusted you and left you behind. Finally there was very few people left behind and Remus approached you and the twins as you relaxed in the living room. "Sorry to interrupt." He began not taking his eyes off you as he scanned your body, licking his lips.

"Please do." Fred said with a grin.

"Excuse us profesor." George said pulling Fred away.

"Has anyone given you a tour of the house dear?" Remus asked you with his hands on his pockets while looking down towards you. You shook your head and he simply reached a hand out to you to help you up. He began giving you a tour from the bottom of the house towards upstairs, there were still people in the house but very few as it was nearing 4am and most people had traveled home by now. He led you all the way up before he stopped at a room. "And here is my room." He said.

"Your room?" You questioned.

"Well technically the guest room but since it's just Sirius who lives here this room has become my room, I stay here whenever I'm in London." It was mostly a simply decorated room but the small pile of books on the side table made it obvious that Remus stayed here often.

"What have you been reading?" You said picking up the top book as Remus came up behind you putting his arms around you and kissing your neck.

"Does it matter right now?" He whispered in your ear pulling you against him.

"I don't think so." You said as he turned you around to look at him.

"You drive me crazy girl." He leaned in to kiss you. "Do you want to know how crazy?" He asked and you nodded. That's when he grabbed your hand and put it against his crotch, you could feel how huge his cock was in that very moment. "Holy shit." You whispered as a genuine reaction not thinking about what's leaving your lips. Remus smiled and chuckled slightly. "Don't worry, I'll go slow." He whispered and you almost melted into his kiss. After a moment of kissing he gently pushed you against the wall where he pulled your top off and your trousers. He began kissing you from your neck down your body getting on his knees in front of you as he kissed your legs and bit your thong. "I have thought about this moment from the first time I met you. You're more beautiful than I imagined." He said before standing up and kissing you on the lips again and you ran your hands through his hair. He picked you up and lay you down on his bed as he climbed up above you leaning down and kissing you. You reached up to unbutton his shirt and he stopped your hands for a moment.

"I just want to warn you, I have scares." He said, his voice had a twang of anxiety behind it.

"I don't care." You breathed out.

"You don't understand they're bad, I can keep my shirt on."

"Remus don't be ridiculous." You said unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his chest, his scars were deep, layering on top of each other some older than others. You began to trace them with your finger as Remus watched your expression, you then leaned in to kiss his scars. He put a hand under your chin and went back to kiss you as he unbuckled his trousers slipping them off while keeping his lips on yours. He once again moved down to your underwear taking them off with his mouth as he kissed you all the way back up to your lips. "I'm going to go slow but if anything hurts tell me okay?" He confirmed and you nodded. "Dear I need you to use your words for me."

"Yes Professor." You said and it felt like his eyes darkened a little as he slowly slid into you. You could feel how large he was as began to slowly move in and out. As soon as he saw you feel comfortable he began to up the pass, kissing your neck and starting to suck and lick it as you moaned under him. "You're so beautiful." He whispered in your ear as he kissed you.

"Remus you feel amazing." You said as he picked up the pace and moaned in your ear. He held your hands above your head with one hand and kept himself up above you with the other. The kissing turned into bites with kisses as your hearts raced. "Remus I'm close." You moaned out as he was bitting your nipples and still holding your hands above your head. "I want to feel you cum for me." He said as he kissed your lips again and you moaned out in bliss. You felt him fill you right after. As soon as he pulled out he leaned in to kiss you and you kissed him back. "Happy new year." He whispered as he lay down next to you pulling you in your hug him, you skin touching his skin. "Happy new year Remus." You whispered back tracing his scars with your finger and closing your eyes as he lightly kissed the top of your head.

A/N: AHHHHHH finally! Now I can tell you this chapter was the idea that sparked everything, it was the idea of them sitting on those bloody steps and him lighting her cigarette with his own that made me want to write all this. Don't worry it's not over yet, we're only just beginning the story I hope you carry on reading a lot as there's loads more to come as they navigate this situation. Hope you like it!

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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suplicyy · 22 days

Note

Hii!

Could you please write some hcs of Kenma, and Nishinoya plus maybe anyone else you want with a gf who's like a tiny bit younger than them, shorter and is like really clingy. She's like constantly texting them, and takes every chance she can to hug them or just talk to them and is there even at their practices.

Haikyuu boys w/ a clingy gf

— Summary: Relationship hcs about them having a clingy girlfriend.

— Characters: Nishinoya, Kenma

— Fluff

— Fem!Reader

You're only a year younger than him, so it wasn't so difficult to make friends with him!! Little by little you would meet each other by chance during breaks or during free time in class, and these moments made you get closer and closer, until you started dating.

But as time went by, you opened up to him more and had the courage to be who you really are, as he has always made it clear that he likes you for who you are. And after that, you felt more confident to be more loving with him: with lots of physical touches, words of affirmation and lots of quality time!

You love your boyfriend very much and want to show it in the most affectionate way possible!

Nishinoya

The way you met is always told as a story at family lunches. You were passing by the gym by chance, and a ball he received flew out of the place and ended up in your face. He apologized a million times and even offered to buy you a popsicle for a whole week.

But after that you understood each other and became friends, until you got to where you are now!

He simply LOVES you to be clingy with him, as he returns your affections with the same intensity as you. People on the outside assume you were meant for each other since your personalities match up so well.

Anywhere and anytime you are always together in some way, whether it's clasping hands, hugging, kissing; you are rarely separated from each other.

But unfortunately there are times when you aren't always together, after all you don't live in the same house and you have your own clubs to go to. So you guys are always messaging each other on your cell phone!

If someone doesn't ask him to stop using his cell phone to talk to you, he could easily spend the whole day just sending you silly audios of him singing a random song he heard somewhere.

Kenma

One day, you saw him playing one of your favorite games, so you started talking to him. And you spent a few days talking until you had the courage to ask for his phone number, which he gave you almost immediately (but he would never admit he was excited about it for you)

Kenma spoke more freely through messages than in person, so you almost always talked about various things: games you're playing at the moment, movies, series, about your day. And with that you ended up becoming closer, until you started dating.

You know that Kenma is someone who is quite shy, so at the beginning of the relationship you weren't so clingy in public with him. But when the two of you were alone, you loosened up a little and became much more affectionate.

At first he was always very shy when you initiated physical affection with him, but after a while he relaxed more and managed to adapt to your way of showing affection to him.

You would from time to time be seen literally clinging to each other, with him playing on his console and with his head resting on your shoulder, and you hugging him. As much as he doesn't like PDA that much, he finds your presence and your touches so comforting that he ends up giving in a little.

Kuroo once went to Kenma's house to get something he had left there the last time he went there, and when he entered he found him hugging you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. After some deadly glares from the boy, Kuroo promised he wouldn't tell anyone.

A/N — Tysm for your request!! I wish I had added more characters, but recently I've been very busy so I was afraid it would take too long for me to do this one.💔💔

I hope you enjoyed it!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #hq #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x fem!reader #haikyuu #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya fluff #kozume kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma fluff #hq kenma #hq nishinoya

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bosbas · 5 months

Text

Epilogue: quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

series masterlist previous part || alt ending

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 2.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love (except not really anymore), alluding to sex, benedict being so down bad for this woman (like down horrendous), this woman being so down bad for benedict, pregnancy and discussions around pregnancy

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: i am so sad to let these bbs go i love them so much!! i will simply have to write drabbles because they are so dear to me oh my

January 3, 1819 – Y/N

A happy new year indeed! I missed you all terribly during the holiday season this year, but John and I had a wonderful time here in Scotland with Michael. It snowed beautifully on Christmas Day, and it made me think of all of you and our often violent snowball fights on your birthday.

In fact, I believe this letter should reach you at around that time, so I am sending you the brightest of birthday wishes as well! While I won’t be able to attend your celebration this year, seeing how we’ll still be at Kilmartin House, I am sending you a wonderfully tight hug and hoping your day is incredibly special. Hit one of my siblings with a snowball for me, please! Preferably one of the boys, but really anyone will do.

Love from your sister, Francesca

You squinted your eyes in your dimly candlelit bedroom, unsuccessfully attempting to undo the tiny buttons on your dress. Perhaps it was the undercurrent of nervousness that had been moving through you the whole day, but you found your fingers were shaking so much that you couldn’t hold them still for long enough to unclasp the buttons on your back. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you accepted that you were simply not going to be able to do this by yourself, and you gripped the edge of the chest of drawers in front of you as you willed your voice to come out sounding more carefree than you were feeling at the moment.

“Ben, darling, are you still upset about earlier?” you called across the room.

A small huff escaped his lips as he shifted on an armchair in the corner, murmuring something about betrayal and honor without looking up from his book. You smiled and held back a laugh, anxieties momentarily soothed. Per Francesca’s request, you had hit Benedict less-than-gently in the chest with a tightly packed snowball during your annual snowball fight earlier today, and he had taken it quite to heart. Well, that and the fact that you had sneakily teamed up with Hyacinth and Gregory without telling him. It really wasn’t your fault, you reasoned. Benedict had thought you would go easy on him simply because you were married to him, which, of course, was a foolish thing to think. Though he wasn’t as competitive as you were, evident in your much more successful Pall Mall record, you knew today’s loss still stung.

“Well, do you think could find it in you to help me with my dress?” you raised your eyebrows pointedly. “Or are you still feeling too betrayed?”

He immediately looked to meet your eyes, grudge completely forgotten as he nodded excitedly and rushed over to you from the armchair he had previously been sitting in. It was rather endearing that Ben was still giddy every time you asked for his help undressing, even after four years of marriage.

After a few moments of Benedict concentrating intensely on the buttons on your back, you teased, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

He hummed in assent and smiled at you, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Oh, immensely. It certainly makes up for earlier, I think,” he winked as he fiddled with the buttons.

Honestly, you were inclined to think that Benedict had been secretly asking your seamstress to make the buttons smaller on each new dress she made you so you would have no option but to ask for his help. Even so, you wouldn’t have minded. You, too, enjoyed his sturdy hands on your back, his deft fingers fiddling with your dress and his lips softly kissing your shoulders as you told him about your day.

“A well-deserved win today, Mrs Bridgerton,” he said, never quite growing tired of how sweet the title sounded coming from his mouth. “And on your birthday no less. A stellar performance. I suppose I’ll have to start recruiting Simon and Daphne’s children to help me against the lot of you from now on. And then when we have ones of our own I can form a small army and I will never lose again.”

Your heartbeat sped up a fraction, but you were saved from having to answer when he undid the last button and your dress fell to the floor. Benedict placed his hands on your shoulders and gingerly turned you around to face him, drawing in a sharp breath as he took in your figure covered by nothing but your chemise, completely mesmerized by you. But he was quickly drawn out of his awe when he noticed your nervous eyes shifting around the room.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on your elbow and drawing you closer. “I wasn’t truly upset about today, I promise. I rather enjoyed seeing you, Gregory, and Hyacinth absolutely obliterate everyone else. It was only a slight inconvenience that I was one of the people you were obliterating.”

You shook your head, sending him a small smile. “No, no don’t worry, Ben. It’s not that at all,” you said, laying your head on his shoulder tiredly, an entire day of worrying having taken a toll on you.

“But it is something, then,” he prodded, desperate to find out what was making you so anxious.

You said nothing, fiddling nervously with the hem of his waistcoat instead. Benedict, on his part, was growing increasingly alarmed. Usually, he could instantly tell exactly what was plaguing you, but you were being oddly evasive, and he was at a loss. Perhaps the best thing to do was to let you rest and broach the subject tomorrow morning, so he tugged on your hand and sat you down on the bed.

“It’s alright, darling,” he said, softly kissing your forehead. “I’ll ring for some tea, and we can get ready for bed.”

“I think I’m pregnant,” you blurted out before he could let go of your hand to go ask for some tea from the kitchen. Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you immediately felt a weight lifted off your shoulders as you said the words aloud.

“What?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Pregnant. With child.”

“With my child?”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” you responded, laughing.

He instantly relaxed, rolling his eyes and engulfing you in a tight hug. “Oh, shut up, woman! I was merely trying to process the news,” he laughed, ecstatic that there would soon be a tiny version of one of you running around the house. He looked at you, eyes shining, and shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“So, you’re happy?” you asked, anxiety still lingering in the back of your mind. It had been four years, after all. Your marriage had happened rather hastily, considering the years the two of you had spent pining after one another, and you had decided to revel in your romance for a while before having children. And eventually, you had wanted them. It was just slightly frightening to know that the time had actually come. You were excited, of course. You couldn’t imagine a better life than one where you raised children alongside your best friend, but you couldn’t help the nervousness you felt as you locked eyes with Ben.

“Happy? I’m over the moon, darling,” he said giddily and pushed you back on the bed so he could plant kisses all over your face.

“If I knew it would be like this I would’ve gotten pregnant earlier,” you joked as Benedict moved on to kiss your neck and your breathing got heavier.

---

You awoke quite suddenly, sitting up in bed so abruptly that Ben’s arm, which had previously been wrapped around you with his hand placed on your stomach, fell away from your body entirely.

Benedict grumbled in protest, noticing your absence even in his sleep. Typically, you slept on your side, with Benedict wrapped around you until the moment you woke up. Despite your racing heart, you smiled down at him, placing a soft kiss on his temple and sliding yourself back into his arms.

But your attempts to fall back asleep were futile. You had stopped tossing and turning but found yourself lying on your side, staring at the wall opposite you while you felt Benedict’s chest rising and falling against your back as he breathed.

“S’wrong?” Benedict asked sleepily, sensing that you were still awake.

Not wanting to disturb his sleep more than you had already, you whispered, “No, it’s nothing, Ben. You can go back to sleep.”

But Benedict was having none of it. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, turning you around to face him. “That’s alright. I was awake anyway,” he lied, voice husky with sleep. “What’s wrong? I’m incredibly awake. Awake. I am awake.”

“Sounds like it,” you said, laughing at him softly. You leaned up and pecked him on the lips, secretly thankful for his unrelenting line of questioning.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes and leaning on his arm to face you, Ben looked at you and smiled fondly. “I am! Promise.” Then, tracing his fingertips on your arm, he pressed you a bit more. “It’s just me, darling. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m a bit scared,” you whispered. “Actually, I’m terrified. Terrified of becoming a mother, and of having to take care of an entire other human being, and of what it might change between us. Is this what you really want? Having a child?”

Benedict’s fingers never stopped moving as he thought of how to best address your fears, knowing the motion calmed you down. “Having a child with you,” he corrected. “Of course it’s what I want! I get to see a little bit of you in an entirely different person. And you’re my favorite person. So, I don’t really see a downside.”

You hummed thoughtfully, feeling slightly calmer. “But what if I’m a bad mother? What if our child is unhappy?” you cried, tears brimming your eyes as you thought of the endless scenarios in which you failed as a mother.

“What if you’re a great mother? And our child is happy?” Ben countered. “Look at how you are with Gregory and Hyacinth. How you’ve always been with them. You’re going to be a wonderful mother, Y/N. Besides, we’ll learn how to be parents at the same time and it’ll be something we do together.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you interlocked your fingers with Benedict’s. “I suppose you’re right,” you conceded. “It will certainly be a hell of an adventure.”

Sensing that you had calmed down significantly, Ben added cheekily, “Don’t forget you’ll finally have someone else you can force to listen to your ramblings about literature.”

You smacked Benedict playfully. “You enjoy the ramblings, might I remind you,” you replied airily.

Kissing the top of your nose, he tucked your hair behind your ear and winked. ”Mm, I believe I did admit to this, yes.” Then, after a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke up gently, “What about you?”

“What about me?” you asked.

“Is having a child what you really want?”

Your heart melted a bit. Even after he woke up in the middle of the night to have a chat with you and was clearly exhausted, he was still making sure you were alright. “Well, obviously. I’m thrilled! Especially now you’ve brought up the fact that I can have a book club of my own. If it’s a boy, I bet he’ll be just like you. A tiny Benedict running around the house ruining our expensive furniture with acrylic paint.”

“And if it’s a girl we’ll name her Daisy, right? Flower names and all that,” he replied sleepily, relieved you were finally easing into the idea of motherhood. “She’ll be just as smart as you are, I bet. I’ll give her the flower encyclopedia as well so she can know where her name came from. I think the one I gave you is still at Bridgerton House. I’m sure we could find it if we look.”

You gasped, having forgotten about your childhood plans to name your daughter after a flower. “Oh, that would be so darling!”

Benedict laughed softly, kissing you and pulling you back into his arms. “It would, wouldn’t it? Do you want to go back to sleep?” he asked, burying his nose in your hair as his eyes fluttered shut. You nodded, squeezing the hand that was nearest to you and interlocking your fingers.

Ben was fast asleep soon after, but you spent a few moments looking at his sleeping form, chest rising and falling as his breathing deepened. Your heart swelled with love for this silly boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago. He was your husband now! Even after four years, you couldn’t quite believe how lucky you’d gotten. And you would get to raise a child together now. You really couldn't imagine anything better.

—

previous part || alt ending || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld @5sos-calm @elissanatok @titanicnerd-blog @noonenuts @moonwayne @lilasblogg @mmontgomeryb @fulltacoparadise @joyfullymulti @sopanngon @fanfiction-she-wrote @aureolinb @ambitionspassionscoffee @bbubbllejisoo @marvelspogue @avengersgirlloriannaa @loliakeoghan23 @cierrajhilll @sadprose-auroras @merlieve @khaylin27 @cherrytop02 @little-duck @angerpearl @shondlenoodle @lyssamay52 @bags10 @angerpearl

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charlesf1leclerc · 11 months

Text

BABY #2- KUWTL

Y/nInstagram- Baby Leclerc #2 in progress 🤍 charlesleclerc

Charlesleclerc - je t’aime, thank you for this gift mon Cherie ❤️

User- Omg another leclerc baby we all know it’s gonna be adorable

Landonorris- congrats guys! Team boy CharlesLeclerc- I’ll be happy either way

User- yess new little leclerc content

user- congrats to you guys

pierreGasly- well we know what you did with your summer

CarlosSianz- my new teammate in the making? 🤨 liked by y/ninstagram

user- more daddy Charles content

user- they are already the best parents can’t wait I’m so happy for them

ArthurLeclerc- congrats sis ❤️ please be like you we don’t need another mini Charles

Charles leclerc- can’t wait to go this journey with you all over agin my love 🤍 @Y/ninstagram

pascaleLeclerc- couldn’t be happier for you both 🥰

user- Aww another Leclerc baby

Y/ninstagram- i love you so much and I couldn’t be happier ❤️

user- Boy or girl guys???? User- I hope boy because mini Charles but girl User- Girl ArthurLeclerc- Girl 💕

JorisTouche- not another one 🙄❤️

charlesleclerc

*comments disabled *

@y/ninstagram

*comments disabled*

Y/ninstagram- welcome to the world my sweet baby I love you more then words can say charlesleclerc

User- omg look at the little toes

charlesLeclerc- so proud of you cherie 🤍

martamolino- Congrats hun so adorable

User-I’m dying to know if it’s a boy or girl

PascaleLeclerc- my beautiful grandchild

user- Congrats that’s one cute baby

user- omg another baby these genes are amazing

CharlesLeclerc- Welcome to the world my beautiful sweet girl Sicily Mae. I love you and cherish you more than you know. @y/ninstagram thank you for giving me two beautiful girls I couldn’t be more proud of you. I will be forever grateful and in debt to you

user- that’s such a beautiful name congrats

Landonorris- happy for you but upset the name isn't lando the II

Arthur Leclerc- Im scared that bay is definitely another mini charles Liked by y/ninstagram

User- She’s so cute definitely the leclerc baby

LorenzoLeclerc- ❤️ congrats you two beautiful family

LewisHamilton- Congrats to the both of you

CarlosSianz- Ah my teammate has arrived

user- 🥹

PierreGasly- your telling me Charles leclerc made that, then why is it so cute?

@Y/ninstagram

*comments disabled*

————————————————————————

Hope you all enjoyed even though it’s short pls continue to keep sending in your request for my KUWTL series and my other drivers tysm xx

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wintfleur · 3 months

Text

ꔫ ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Pretty boys b-day! — Stella Hughes AU!

au masterlist - you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

°. — asks about stella and rut are under #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🩷୧˚ stella & rut!

﹕─┈ pairings (Estella Hughes oc! X Rutger McGroarty )

°. — summary ( Stella’s post for Rutgers birthday! )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I really wanted to write a blurb for Rutgers birthday, but I have been so busy that I totally forgot! I do hope you guys still enjoy, please let me know what you guys think !!! )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

stellahughes added to their story !

🎵 Always forever - Cults

[caption1: it’s pretty boys birthday 🫶🏻] [caption2: in my sugar mommy era 🤩]

rutgermcgroarty reacted with 🩷

luca.fantilli replied with ‘fridgeee 😍’

lilybaileys replied with ‘MOMMY 😩’

carmenbarlowe replied with ‘oh the song, you picked the song 😭’

edwards.73 replied with ‘this is favoritism, you always make me pay 😐’

stellahughes replied with ‘you’re not the one fucking me every night ??’

edwards.73 replied with ‘ . . . rutger give Stella her phone back”

stellahughes

liked by gabeperreault44, cuttergauthier_, bboeser and others

🏷️ rutgermcgroarty

🎵 My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

stellahughes; happy birthday to the sweetest boy I’ll ever know, the only one who can make me smile so big! Can’t wait to spend many more with you !! 🩷

comments have been limited

lhughes_06 happy birthday ig 🫤

rutgermcgroarty thanks bro!

jackhughes @/rutgermcgroarty NO NO 🙅‍♂️

lilybaileys happy birthday old man!

rutgermcgroarty 🖕🏻

stellahughes my fav dilf 😩

rutgermcgroarty BABE???

nick_moldenhauer bros perfect

g.brindley4 MY MAN MY MAN 😍

adamfantilli FRIDGEEE 😍

_quinnhughes happy birthday rut!

rutgermcgroarty thank you q!

elblue6 happy birthday sweetie! 🩷

rutgermcgroarty thank you mama Hughes! 🩷

markestapa happy b-day sexy!

edwards.73 RUT! RUT! RUT!

luca.fantilli happy birthday; love you bro!

rutgermcgroarty thanks luc! Love you 2

luca.fantilli no photo creds??? 🧐

stellahughes 🙄

rutgermcgroarty I love you so much stell 🩷

stellahughes 💋💋

carmenbarlowe HAPPY BIRTHDAY RUTGER 🥳

rutgermcgroarty THANK YOU CARMEN 🥳

entersteller

liked by _willsmith2, trevorzegras, adamfantilli, and others

🏷️ rutgermcgroarty

🎵 Those eyes - New west

entersteller; I close my eyes and all I see is you 🩷

📍rutgermcgroarty hehe 🎥

entersteller shhhh 🤭

jackhughes WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN??

jackhughes Happy birthday rutger!

rutgermcgroarty thanks BRO!

Trevorzegras happy birthday 💋

Trevorzegras I did not mean to use that emoji…

entersteller you have somthin to tell me trev? Hmm? 🤔

rutgermcgroarty thanks man 💋

colecaufield please tell me you have clothes on ‼️

entersteller my mama told me not to lie 🥳

colecaufield 🤢🤢🤢

Ihughes_06 🤢🤢🤢

jackhughes 🤢🤢🤢

edwards.73 🤢🤢🤢

_alexturcotte 🤢🤢🤢

entersteller u guys are a bunch of haters omg.

tatemcrae hottest couple mhm

entersteller MARRY ME PLEASEEE 😩

carmenbarlowe the cutest couple ever 😭

entersteller ilysm minnie 💋💋

lilybaileys IS IT SAFE FOR ME TO DROP RUTS PRESENT OFF ??

rutgermcgroarty nope 😁

entersteller no! 🫶🏻

lilybaileys damn okay…

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( smaus are so fun omg I need to do them more ! This is kinda rushed sorry . . . hehe if anyone gets Rutgers comment with the 🎥 I love you! )

°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lxvelyzoe @lovings4turn x )

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alreadyblondenow · 4 months

Text

Virgin as you can be | Lee Taeyong (TEASER)

✦ Taeyong x Female Reader

✦ Smut, filthy, fluff and Angst. Mature College AU

✦ 1/2 Taeyong Smut Series: I found you

Summary: More than friends but less than lovers. Taeyong meets you, a virgin, through an online dating app and offered you a once in a lifetime opportunity. An opportunity to have fun and enjoy your last year in college differently. Knowing that you’re a virgin, Taeyong plans on keeping it that way for as long as he wanted to. He’s taking his sweet time until he finally takes your virginity.

Warnings: This is pure fiction, this is the filthiest most smuttiest fic I’ve ever written, foreplay galore, use of sex toys like vibrator and dildo, mentions of pills, the reader will someday use pills in the story, oral sex, nipple play, oil massage, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: if you enjoyed the story, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel. Also please support ‘TAP’, Taeyong’s masterpiece 🥹 I’m super proud of him!!!

Let me know if u want to be tagged!

He has been counting the days until he can see you again and spend time with you again. You are the only person in his mind, thinking about what you’re doing every second of the day. He misses you, but he can’t put it into words. He tries to compose a message, but ends up deleting it until he’s already busy again… and he never got the chance to send the text.

“Dude, just finish the fashion week then spend time with her again” Johnny says, as someone who’s been in a long distance relationship.

“So this is what long distance—“ Taeyong did not finish his sentence.

“you two are in a relationship?” Johnny confirms, surprised at what Taeyong said. Jaehyun was all ears too while he’s on the chair for his hair and makeup.

“No” Taeyong defends. His voice automatically surrounded the room. “Were not in a relationship— were just having fun” Taeyong explains while he fixes his Loewe outfit that’s perfect already.

The fashion week is the busiest for Taeyong, you know this because Taeyong is a famous Loewe ambassador outside school… but oh you wish he could tell you that he’s busy, that he’s not available, that he’d call you back… but he never did. What do you expect?

You’re not his, and he’s not yours.

“So are you coming tonight?” Your friend asks you with a smirk. She doesn’t know about Taeyong, no one does. “Let’s go meet some boys???” She asks again.

This is a good opportunity to help yourself. Help yourself to forget the person who made you feel good in all the right places with just a single touch. An opportunity to forget someone who’s beyond perfect.

And you can’t have him.

Reality hits you.

“Yeah. I’ll come with you guys” you answered your friend with the most uninterested tone.

The night continued to be loud and wild, a perfect setting to forget about Taeyong even just for a few hours. You just wanted to stop missing him and his touch because you’re about to get crazy about him. It’s not that you’ve fallen in love with him already, it’s the feeling that he made you experience. Every secret. Every kiss, every touch. Everything in between… you became addicted to receiving it.

Shot by shot you drink everything until you blacked out and dozed off on the bar table. Your friends are clueless with how to bring you home because they’re drunk and wasted too. But suddenly you received a call.

A call that you’ve been waiting for weeks.

A call that will rescue you in your drunken state.

“Hi! This is not Y/n… but whoever you are. Can you pick her up at 127 bar? She’s drunk and so am I byeee….”

Taeyong was speechless over the phone while listening to your friend. But even so, he hurried himself and drove straight to 127 bar. Even though he’s tired, even though all he wanted to do is sleep… he chose to pick you up. Blushing on his way, excited to finally see you.

When he arrived you were the only one left sleeping at the bar, Taeyong was quick to cover you with his jacket and carefully walked you towards his car. Holding you close to him, not giving a fuck about anyone who sees him holding you. ‘Let them talk’ he thought. Right now he just wanted to keep you safe and drive you home.

It’s not that you weren’t aware that Taeyong is the one holding you right now, in fact, your embrace tightened when you smelled his expensive perfume. You knew it was Taeyong. But you were just so drunk that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. All you could say is ‘I want to be with you’ and slept through the entire car ride.

The next day, the familiar broad shoulders of Taeyong is the first thing you saw the moment you opened your eyes. He was sleeping soundly, while holding your hand. You have the most space of his bed, while he was the one squeezing himself on the side. You felt sorry and pulled him gently, careful not to wake him up but you failed. He greeted you with sweet smile. The one that makes every girl in school crazy for him. But this time, you’re the only one seeing this beautiful smile first thing in the morning.

“Hi,” he started and pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arms around you, kissing your forehead and feeling his heartbeat against his bare chest. This is the first time you see him bare like this even though you’ve done crazy things already. And you can’t help yourself to look at every tattoo he has, tracing it with your fingertips, leaving you speechless.

“Did you have a good time last night?” he added.

You feel like you needed to apologize so you told him the truth, about what you felt when he was away. About the things that keeps you awake at night, the worries you keep on thinking, “I just thought I lost you and… I will never see you again just because you didn’t like…what I did, the last time we spent together” you were talking about the blowjob that you gave him. You faintly remember how he looked so frustrated that time.

Taeyong let out a cute laugh, looking so angelic under this morning light. His hand is perfectly wrapped around you. “I can’t believe you’re stressing yourself with the things that aren’t true. I was just busy at work but during those times, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you… I miss you” he explains.

You were once again speechless because of his honesty and feelings.

“Let’s just forget the time that we weren’t together and pick up where we left off? What do you say?” He says as if he’s suggesting to do something.

Of course he is.

And you’re up for it.

“What do you have in mind?” You said, smiling.

“It involves my tongue… on your cunt,” he whispered seductively beside your ear. Feeling his lips on your neck, trailing kisses until he reaches your lips, “and your legs getting weaker by the second” he added and showed you how much he misses you through his kisses and you see Taeyong’s smile clear as the day, a sign that you didn’t lose him at all.

You feel his hands roam on your body, putting his hand inside your sweat pants, his fingers were cold but you didn’t care. You still remember the first time his hand was inside your panties for the first time and how his fingers felt so good against your wet cunt. It felt like yesterday you thought to yourself… And today, he will once again become your first time.

“Can you go in all fours?” He requests while he kisses you deeply. Of course you comply to his request, you love how every time you feel his presence behind you and in between your legs, you have no idea what’s coming next. You’re always clueless about his next move. He did mentioned that there will be oral sex again, but knowing Taeyong… he will not go right into it… he likes to take his sweet time and play.

He started with something you’re familiar with. His touch and kisses. He spreads kisses on your back, hands gently massage you from behind. Removing your sleepwear and making you moan from time to time with every teasing and touch he does. It’s relaxing but a different kind of relaxing, you feel tingles in between your legs, you feel wetter by the second and his very touch turns you on.

Slowly you feel his hands trail up from your waist, until he reaches the sides of your boobs which are damn sensitive. It makes you weak whenever he touches you on these parts, swirling his fingers on the sides of your boobs and cupping it both hands in the softest way possible to make your nipples hard and sensitive.

“Do you like it?” Taeyong asks then left a kiss on your lower back. You can only answer with a soft moan.

He did the same things again and again and again until your whole body is sensitive and your nipples are hard as fuck from his teasing. Until he proceeds to the main event without a warning. From behind, he licked your wet panties and teased your wet pussy with his tongue and fingers. Moving up and down slowly, tickling your cunt with his fingertips softly.

Even that thin barrier between Taeyong’s tongue and your cunt feels good you thought. And when Taeyong was done playing, he removed your panties in swift move, spreading your legs good for your own benefit. Without any warning he started with a few good licks that took your breath away. So this is what it feels like being licked by the cunt. It made you nervous, it gave you a tingly effect, it made you want to close your legs, at made you want more.

“Good?” He asked, you nod.

For the second time, you’re now on your back, enjoying the comfort of Taeyong’s soft bed. But now it wasn’t just Taeyong’s tongue making you feel good, his lips were involved this time. It was like he was kissing your cunt with tongue, a wet kiss that felt like your pussy juices won’t stop flowing because Taeyong is doing such a great job. Licking you up and down, licking your clit while reaching for your hard nipples and pinching it. By that, you earned your first orgasm through Taeyong’s tongue.

But he was not yet done.

Using his fingers, he spread your pussy lips and started licking aggressively. Pushing his head towards you more, feeling his nose on your pussy. This time you really couldn’t stop yourself and try to close your legs, calling Taeyong’s name as you moan how good he’s making you feel. Soon you hit another high. He was right, it will make your legs weak.

Others girls would last long, but you don’t. And that’s what Taeyong love about you.

He crawled up to you, comfortable in the position in between your legs while waiting for you to come down from your high. He loves seeing you like this. Horny and ruined all because of him. “Calm down, breathe” he giggles and started kissing your boobs. Sucking and kneading them as he waits for you.

“How can I breathe if you constantly take my breath away?” You asked with a flirty look, the man in front of you couldn’t resist himself and kissed you hard. Asking for another round in an instant. You feel his hard cock inside his sweat pants and you instantly feel bad because you can’t do something in return for him.

Of course Taeyong can see right through you, so he reached for your hand, kissed it before he puts it inside his sweat pants, your eyes went big with what he did. Clearly remembering the last time you touched him and gave him head for the first time.

“I wasn’t frustrated that time,” he moans as he enjoys every stroke you give on his clothed hard cock. “I was frustrated at myself because I couldn’t fuck you that time… but I loved everything you did last time. That pretty mouth if yours sure do know how to make me crazy for more” he says and kissed you to prove what he was saying.

Now that everything is clear and you worried for nothing, you wanted to make it up to him. With bravery, you put your hand inside his boxer briefs and tightened the grip around his hard cock, he already knew what to do of course. He closed is eyes and thrusted hard, moving his hips and fucking your hand. Pretending and imagining that its your hole. You spread kisses in Taeyong’s neck, licking his hard nipples while his imagination runs wild until he cums on your hand and making a mess. Nobody cared. You were both really horny and craving for more.

After a few rounds of fooling around, you and Taeyong spent the whole day kissing, giggling and watching movies in his room. Never leaving each other’s touch.

“When will you take me home?” You asked softly while your eyes were both closed. Enjoying his dimmed room and just basking in each other’s presence.

“I really hate watching you leave” he says, pulling you closer to him and tightening his embrace.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You suddenly asked. The words just came out of your mouth.

You knew a lot of things about him but you’ve never asked him something so personal. You feel like you’ve done something wrong again…

“I’m sorry—“ you apologize.

“Don’t be. It’s just that… I don’t know the answer. But I do know that love is complicated and I don’t like complicated things. Complications ruins things”

You nod and changed the subject.

“How about, first sex?”

“It’s boring. The third one was better” he smirked.

#nct smut #taeyong smut #nct taeyong smut #nct taeyong x reader #lee taeyong smut #nct taeyong fluf #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct angst #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #bssays #nct x reader smut #nct taeyong

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writefightandflightclub · 5 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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silkscream · 3 months

Text

CHAPTER 9: GOD IS A CIRCLE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Your angels do not react. They only look at you with concern, shielding you from the blazing sun with their wings. They stare as you laugh, doubling over, falling backwards into the green grass. You only remember that you’re alive when they trace the contours of your body with their fingertips.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, high sex, threesome, oral sex, fingering, graphic depictions of violence and blood, recreational drug usage, biblical imagery, angst

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i was barely conscious when i wrote this. sorry bout it

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

August, 2009

Bliss is never eternal. If it was, you’d think the world would stop turning with everyone busy with their greatest indulgences. It’s not like you were much of a hedonist anyway, not even with Satoru’s influence.

You feel intoxicated with him and Suguru, but it’s not enough to keep you from reality. Yaga-sensei proves this the moment the boys are ordained the task of protecting the star plasma vessel—a fourteen-year-old girl with more spirit than you ever had at that age. You admire her spunk, her unwillingness to take shit from either of the boys. It entertains you endlessly.

“How do you deal with them?” she mutters to you. You learn that her name is Riko Amanai. She loves the ocean and has a sweet tooth like Satoru. Her favorite flavor is anything blue.

“I keep them in check.”

“Are you my bodyguard too?”

“Not really,” you laugh. “But I’ll be around.”

Riko likes you. She clings to you more than you anticipate, considering this isn’t your mission, but you understand. She’s vulnerable despite her confidence in her fate as Tengen’s vessel. Talks a big game with blue eyes shining bright, similar to Satoru.

She pouts at your absence. You think nothing of it, knowing that she’s in good hands between the boys and that caretaker of hers. The bounty on the girl’s head is daunting, but the boys are the strongest, and you watch them evade the enemies easily.

It’s when they end up in Okinawa that something in your chest feels a bit empty. A bad omen, anxiety pooling in your gut.

Satoru texts you pictures from the beach—sea creatures from the ocean and the aquarium, selfies with Suguru that are often blurry. He texts you how much he misses you, how much he craves the parts of you that you think may be too intimate to even talk about out loud, let alone through text. Suguru sends you pictures of Riko and Satoru on the beach with the creatures they pick up from the ocean, of sunsets he knows you would enjoy.

You ache for their return.

satoru: gonna stay for another day jsyk

you: having fun?

satoru: yeaaaa

satoru: tired as fuck though

satoru: but riko likes the beach. thought we could give her one more day

you: you’re sweet

satoru: not as sweet as uuuuuuuuu

satoru: she says hi btw

satoru: shes mad ur not here

you: she likes me more than you

satoru: >:(

you: i’ll see you soon. get some sleep please

satoru: anything for u baby

Something has gone terribly wrong.

You have no reason to be worried—Satoru is more than capable of handling that assassin, no matter how swift his movements may be. It was whiplash to see a sword go through him, and it was whiplash to see Satoru react like it was a paper cut.

Now, in the Tombs of the Star, you feel a chill run up your spine as you escort Kuroi out. She’s still emotional, wiping tears after her goodbye to Amanai. Trepidation strikes you the same way it did in that forest all those months ago. The air has grown cold, but you can’t sense any other cursed energy but your own.

“Kuroi,” you breathe.

“Yes?” She sniffles, wiping her tears quickly.

“Go on without me,” you say cautiously. “I think I better guard the Tomb just in case. For Geto.”

“Alright. Thank you for being there for them.” Kuroi smiles at you with a warmth you aren’t sure that you deserve.

“I wasn’t the one protecting her.”

“I know, but she admired you a lot. We missed you in Okinawa.”

You pull her into a hug, one that you wish you’d given Riko moments prior. It’s a parting gift.

When she departs, you’re left alone in a dark hallway. You expect a spirit to jump out — something monstrous, an amalgamation of your nightmares. But this is a sacred place, you suppose. One meant for sacrifices and blessings. You’ve never really believed in blessings. The world is built on too many curses for that.

Something in the air made you want to choke, swallow back bile. Nothing like your old anxiety spells. It’s something else, you’re sure of it. And yet, it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. The rustle of fabric.

He couldn’t go undetected, not completely. Not when your intuition was on overdrive, making you sick with it. Your senses acute.

“Haven’t seen you before.”

His voice is raspy, the sound of skinned palms on pavement. Deep the way Japanese whiskey burns down and sits in your stomach a little too heavy. There’s a split on the corner of his mouth as if he’d been nicked by a thorn. He smiles at you with lazy, bovine eyes and a snake-like smirk.

This man is not a figment of your imagination — he’s real as can be as he towers over yet, and there’s not a lick of cursed energy you can feel, even when you’re this close to him. A human.

You think about Satoru and the sword that went through his chest. You look at the sword that the stranger in front of you wields. Within a second, you rush to touch him, but your technique doesn’t activate as soon as you want it, too. He slashes you across the stomach, crimson permeating the torn fabric of your uniform.

“Weak little girl,” he chides. “You’re too pretty to kill, though.”

You gag, nearly vomiting on the ground.

“You their girlfriend or what? Would’ve thought they were fucking each other, to be honest.”

You shake your head weakly, your vision blurring already. You hear a bark of a laugh. Not even your bared teeth can be taken seriously, not when you’re bleeding out on the ground. He tuts as if he’s scolding you.

“He’ll kill you,” you hiss. The man laughs again. You must be referring to one of your boys. He grins wider when he realizes.

“Which one? The one with the bangs?” he scoffs. “Because I already killed the Gojo brat, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart drop, sinking like an anchor as the feeling drags your body down with it. You look at him with wide eyes, and the sadistic stare you get back tells you he wants to humiliate you. It would hurt less if he just killed you.

Satoru would never die by the hand of a non-sorcerer. Not a fucking chance. But the notion doesn’t stop the itch behind your nose, your eyes threatening tears. The man crouches, his face looking down at you in mock sympathy, and places a rough palm to your face, swipes your quivering bottom lip. You taste blood.

You clutch his wrist immediately and he raises his hand.

Something metal whips the side of your face, something heavy. Your sight of vision narrows into black.

When you wake, you aren’t sure if you’ve arrived in a nightmare or had just left one.

For one, Satoru is saturated in blood. The scratches on his face are brutal. He looks half feral, half shell-shocked. It’s nothing you’ve seen before.

Despondency paints Suguru’s face into a shadow of himself. There’s something off about their cursed energy.

You don’t want to ask them how the rest of the mission went — you can already tell what the answer might be. If everything went according to plan, there wouldn’t be a blank stare in each of their eyes. If everything was fine, they would return to you like themselves — animated and flirty and teasing. If everything was the way it was meant to be, maybe you wouldn’t have the slight scar of a side wound aching at the side of your gut.

Instead, they’re all business. It’s like they look through you when they speak to you.

“Is Riko…” you trail off.

“She’s dead,” they say.

They deliver the news to you, expressionless. Mirroring each other.

There’s a blankness in Satoru’s eyes. Cold. No one exactly knows how to deal with being killed only to bring yourself back again. The thought of his mangled body surrounded by flyheads makes your stomach churn.

He had always been god-like, prodigal. After being reborn, he really was a God. Untouchable. You’d think him to be cockier or more cruel, but on the surface, he’s devoid of anything, really. He’s stony-eyed, instead, a little empty behind the face. There’s a spark of something when he sees the large bruise on your cheekbone and the ghost of a slash on your rib.

He won’t say much about the man who killed him. Only that he had no cursed energy and a son. You remember a scar bending with the curve of a mouth and sharp green eyes.

It’s quiet at Jujutsu Tech afterward. Yaga continues classes like he always does, and all of you do your best. There are fewer missions that are being demanded of you. You think it’s because of the failed mission. Despite this, Satoru takes on whatever he can, even volunteering for the tougher ones just so he can let off some steam. Suguru often tags along with him, leaving you alone to sulk.

You don’t think you have any reason to sulk. It’s not like you were killed, anyway.

You feel them both pulling away. You don’t bother to pry — they at least seem to be occupied with each other. They were best friends before you ever got close to either of them. You knew your place. You’d give them space, knowing the gravity of the trauma they’d experienced on the mission, and yet your heart ached all the same. It was a familiar hurt, the same you’d felt in high school about Satoru. It was only peculiar now because those feelings applied to both of them.

But then there are times when Satoru sneaks into your room like he always does. He likes to nip at your shoulder with teeth that feel sharper, meaner. Hand around your throat, the calluses squeezing flesh. He likes to pin you down to the mattress, likes to hear the squeak of the bedframe as he fucks into you mercilessly.

Suguru takes you, too, but not so desperately, not so obviously. He lures you in, instead. You realize that he’s different than Satoru in the way that he has the patience for games. It explains the teasing, the touching. He’ll have you wrapped around his finger just from talking to you, and within the hour, he’ll be fucking into your soaked cunt in the locker rooms after sparring.

You suppose this is the way they both let out their frustrations, how they cope with the trauma of losing Riko. They were tightlipped about her.

Both of them had changed in ways that were beyond your comprehension.

Satoru gets colder. Similar to the way he was in high school, when he barely acknowledged you. He doesn’t like to look at you for very long, as if the mere fact of his gaze on you would hurt him, hurt you. It was stupid. He didn’t care about your fragility before, so what point was there to care about it now?

Suguru is mostly the same, just quieter. Hell, he’d always been quiet, other than the times he’d fuck you or when you’d be alone with him. His sarcastic streak was weaker. He touched you less.

You can’t stand any of it.

Satoru isn’t meant to be someone so vulnerable. It’s out of character for him.

You soothe his nightmares when he wakes you up in the middle of the night clutching your waist with nails digging into the skin underneath your shirt. He’s always shaking, always mumbling something nonsensical.

Selfishly, you find that it feels nice to be needed. To be his only form of salvation during these times.

In his waking moments, Satoru is himself again. Belligerently so, with his recklessness. It’s up to you and Suguru to tame him, often. Satoru is almost a different version of himself – familiar and still annoying — but he is much more adamant about his power, nowadays. A God complex in the making.

Satoru gets greedier. He likes to wake you up with his nose nudging your clit, tongue already making a mess of your hole. No amount of pushing his head away with your hand would make him stop, though you blame yourself for indulging.

He likes to tease you for the semblance of control. You suspect that beyond playing with you, he finds solace in Suguru, instead. They aren’t particularly shy about it—sometimes you walk into Satoru’s dorm and find them entangled with one another, clothes off and warm to the touch. They always welcome you into their arms, forcing you in between them.

You feel like you’re at an arm’s length from them at all times despite this.

November, 2009

You settle on a routine. It’s less than pleasant, but you’re used to it. Convincing yourself that it’s normal, at least.

Yaga puts you on more solo missions — you’ve improved your technique. The precision of it is tough, always a wildcard given the unpredictability of destruction beneath your fingertips. Regardless, it’s gotten better. It doesn’t traumatize you so much to be a vehicle of decay anymore. You’re numb to it.

It’s odd — you’re carrying the burden of something you didn’t experience. Satoru finds that you are a mirror for Suguru, the same temperament and all. Always leaving the party to smoke cigarettes together. It doesn’t make him pissy necessarily, but it makes him pout. Clingy to the both of you.

“Stop being antisocial,” he whines.

You and Suguru look up at him in question. He had followed you out of the party when you saw Satoru’s hand on the waist of a girl you didn’t recognize. It was nothing, probably, but it wasn’t something you had ever had to deal with. It wasn’t like he could pry anything out of you, anyway.

“We’re not,” you defend, waving a cigarette around. “It’s too hot in there.”

It was true, to be fair. You were too warm in there and the outside air was nice. That, and you figured that Suguru would follow you, and he always wanted to steal you away for kisses.

Satoru had technically intruded on that, interrupting the moment Suguru had pulled away from your mouth. He eyes you wearing Suguru’s jacket and softens.

“You wanna go home, don’t you?” he asks.

“I can stay if you want,” you shrug.

He sighs. “Can you guys at least hang out with me?”

“Needy,” Suguru teases, stomping the butt of his cigarette on the ground and ushering you in between the sliding glass doors, hand on the small of your back. He nips at Satoru’s neck on the way in.

As if in apology, you don’t leave Satoru’s lap for the rest of the night. You don’t really get to. He even follows you to the bathroom and considers taking you over the counter for the hell of it.

It’s been difficult to touch you, lately.

In late August, the Zen’in outcast had killed him. Satoru had never thought of death as an option that was even possible. It’s why his mind was frenzied in his last moments, panicked as the two of them were surrounded by fly heads. He had not anticipated death, hadn’t anticipated the impact of it, how Suguru would have to return his corpse to Jujutsu Tech. How you would be shedding overflowing tears.

He’d like to think that your face or Suguru’s was in his mind when he took his last breath, but truthfully, he doesn’t remember. His mind was blank.

And when he had risen from the dead and shot a lethal hole through Toji Fushiguro, his mind was blank then, as well. The euphoria had faded. He had fulfilled the ordained role of a boygod, his hands were bloody, and he killed a man who would leave behind a son. He thought of his supposed immortality, his transcendence beyond something human, and then he thought of you.

You were the most human thing about him.

Your warmth, the flush in your cheeks. The way he had taken you back when you were in school, none the wiser about the world of curses. Sometimes he thinks you are one.

It wasn’t meant to go this far, but he had taken the leap and continued to wade in the pool of it all. He does not think of love when he thinks of his family, but he thinks of love when he sees you and Suguru. Something beating, something alive.

It was why he was constantly tipping the line between overflowing completely and being numb — Satoru was no stranger to his indulgences. You, on the other hand, were something else entirely. Fragile underneath his hands. Sometimes, he didn’t even think it was worth it to keep you in the bear trap he had set for you.

And then Suguru would kiss away your tears when Satoru was too rough, too cold, and he would succumb to his desires again. Instead of being something akin to a god, he often dreamt about being ordinary.

Maybe if his birth didn’t throw the planet off its kilter, he could truly be good to you instead of wanting to cut you open and live inside of you. Satoru would always be safe in your skin, but he had started to doubt that you would ever be safe in his.

You were the first to know him, he thinks. You had met him as a child and didn’t assume his divinity, rather, you were oblivious to it. Even as a little servant, you refused to kiss his feet. It relieved him. Satoru knew you always meant more to him than a toy, but in his emerging adulthood, he had taken you as a form of escapism and couldn’t cut you off. You had fastened yourself to him like an extra limb unknowingly.

“I don’t get how you can be so overbearing to her yet so distant at the same time,” Suguru remarks.

Satoru makes a face, scrunching his nose.

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to,” Satoru says blankly.

“The teasing goes too far. And you get insensitive because you’re a prick, and then you barely text her back when you’re on missions.”

Satoru scoffs, fiddling with the pencil he twirls in his hands. Suguru was right, he supposed. He noticed you were a little hollow, all blank stares. Sleeping in while Satoru did not sleep at all.

“They’ve gotten harder lately. And it’s not like I’m–”

“Not what?” Suguru snorts. “Her boyfriend?”

Satoru says nothing to this. Instead, he tackles Suguru onto his bed, slides his palms underneath his shirt and up the smooth planes of his abdomen. He sighs, setting his head on Suguru’s chest.

“It’s not like she cares.”

“She does. She loves you.”

Satoru’s face reddens as if what Suguru says isn’t fact. On Satoru’s end, however – his feelings for you were an understatement. Calling it love seemed fruitless. He’d like to be fused with you, never letting you go. Stuck in the bliss of your skin kissing his in the early mornings forever.

“Think something got knocked loose when I died,” Satoru mumbles, his eyes blank.

Suguru looks at him in question, not following.

“I’ll make it up to her.”

January, 2010

“What are you getting Suguru for his birthday?”

“I don’t know,” Satoru shrugs, a blue raspberry lollipop filling up the hollow of his cheek. Tongue matching the blinding saturation of his eyes. “A blowjob?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t be homophobic! You like watching.”

“I’m serious,” you roll your eyes.

“We’ll take him out,” he grins, shoving his hands in his pockets. Always stupidly attractive, his beauty borderline mythological.

You knew he was lying, knew that he would be away on that Wednesday, that his calendar was always filled a month prior with what the higher-ups needed from him. You thought it was unfair, given that he was still only a second year, though you still knew better. The glaring truth of his strength ever since the failed Star Plasma Vessel mission was conspicuous, a reminder that started to become egregious to you.

Satoru takes some of your takoyaki in unspoken amusement with you rolling your eyes, passing the tray towards him. He pouts despite the gesture, reaching over to poke you in the cheek.

“That can’t taste good with all the sugar in your mouth.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You fixate on the television. Satoru had gotten lucky recently, convincing Yaga to convert one of the common rooms with the connected bathroom into a dorm for himself. He had the Gojo money to “donate”, and he’d been on his best behavior in the past few months, which was rare. It wasn’t like Yaga really gave a fuck about their boarding situation as long as the missions went smoothly.

The room was big enough to fulfill that dream of pushing two beds together. A TV set and dingy couch to match. He needed the TV to fall asleep at night, especially if you weren’t there to stroke his hair. It was the only light source beyond a Hello Kitty lava lamp that Suguru had gotten him as a joke gift.

Satoru had recently started an obsession with Godzilla for some reason, forcing you to watch one every few days before bedtime. You were going in order since Christmas – tonight was the one versus Hedorah.

“You never look at me anymore,” he whines.

“What are you talking about?”

You’d rather say something biting, like how it was the other way around. How he’s been shoving your face into the mattress. How you’d come back to your dorm and see Satoru in between Suguru’s legs without much acknowledgment to you until he’d finish.

“You look at me like I’m a mosquito bite or something. What’s wrong? You don’t think I’m pretty anymore?” he grins, settling his cheek into his palm.

“Not at all. You’re hideous,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. The remark earns you a light kick to your shin under the table.

“Wow. Rude. Personally, I think you’re God-sent.”

“I thought you wanted me to watch this movie,” you mutter, trying not to let him know how much his comment affected you. You always flushed when he said things like that still, and it would always be out of the blue.

“You know I like talking during movies.”

“Right. It’s one of your worst qualities,” you sigh.

The pillows around you are discarded when he suddenly pins you down to the carpet, your face right next to an old ash stain from one of Shoko’s cigarettes. He grins as he parts your mouth with the pad of his thumb, and you’re as obedient as you always are. There’s a ribbon of saliva from his mouth stretching as he takes the lollipop from his tongue to yours.

It wasn’t difficult to get his dick hard, really. He’d known that ever since he’d seen you sprawled on the grass next to the track field when you were fourteen, the way your chest was heaving and your underwear was just slightly visible underneath your gym shorts when you parted your legs.

Satoru thinks you’d laugh in his face if he’d told you about all the times he thought about you when you were teenagers despite the fact that he didn’t speak to you at all. He knows that he would deserve it.

It’s funny. He used to resent you then. He knew he could have you if he’d simply tried a bit harder, if he didn’t so abruptly toss you aside in middle school. Even so, you were everywhere for him—in his dreams, in his house against your will like a chained ghost. Back then, he hated that he loved you, hated that you were weak, hated that, at least besides Suguru, nobody knew him except you.

He wonders briefly if he was high on the taste of you or if the candy is laced with something— he wouldn’t be surprised, since Shoko and Suguru were enablers for the two of you even when you tried to be responsible. It didn’t matter anyway. Your body always made him this frenetic.

It’s when his fingers graze the heat of your cunt that Suguru barges in. He blinks at the two of you entangled on the floor and merely laughs.

“You guys just started?”

“Mmmf,” Satoru grunts. His hand’s wrapped around your neck, now, and your eyes are closed.

Suguru’s musk fills the room. White pine and sugary maple — he’d used Satoru’s deodorant before the mission. There’s still a blood splatter under his cheekbone the color of ripe plums. This was the usual weekend routine. Mindless fucking with a movie in the background. At least one of you would be too exhausted to muster up the energy to go into the city. It was easier to indulge inside, especially when the temperature kept dipping.

Your eyes flutter as Satoru bites your neck down to your collarbone. When you look toward the couch, you see Suguru with a plastic baggie of something you don’t recognize.

“What’s that?”

“Shrooms.”

“How the hell did you manage that?” Satoru quips, his hand digging into your hip.

“There are some freaks in Akihabara,” Suguru shrugs. He eats the mushrooms like they’re crumbs at the bottom of a chip bag. “Got this shit after my mission in a fucking vending machine outside a love hotel. Can you believe it?”

“What, did you get a room there or something?” Satoru snorts. “Whore.”

“Why would I, when I can home to this?” Suguru’s eyes are viper-like, serpentine as he smiles lazily. You’d eat from his palm if he asked you to. In sickness and health—it was stupid. You crawl to him and you do.

Satoru doesn’t take any. He knows full well that psychedelics fuck with his Infinity, that it would only make his insomnia worse. The last time he’d tried acid, he had nightmares for days, seeing green eyes of a hunter. Blood slashed from a blade to his neck. Flyheads swarming.

The drugs make you giddy. Another hour and the room spins in an orderly fashion, the ceiling dancing around in a kaleidoscopic pulse. Suguru had limited your dose, knew you’d freak the fuck out if your self started to disconnect. He’d been there enough times to despise it. Ego death was torture for the introspective kind.

He sucks a hickey into your neck while you’re mindless. It’s amusing how invested you are in this episode of Sailor Moon. Satoru lays his head on your thigh, playing with you lazily. You’re happy enough to take it, grinding against his hand as Suguru distracts you with a kiss. It’s tender and slow, not unusual for him, but with the two of them together, everything is usually frenzied.

He gets you in his lap, the sacrificial lamb you are. Always eager to walk into the predator’s gaping maw on your own accord because of his beautiful eyes. Suguru is no beast, but there’s something twisted about the way he plays with you sometimes.

He likes you to beg for it, but it’s not the taunting way that Satoru does. Suguru will inch his face close enough to yours to smell the artificial sweetness of your breath, then pull your hair when you lean in to kiss him. He’ll touch your thigh under the table, not unlike Satoru, but his fingers will dance around your core in a way that leaves you unable to speak to your fellow peers.

You wonder if they’ve learned their cruelty from each other. But this time, he’s sweet.

It’s the hallucinogen fogging his brain. It makes him like a teenager in love. Open-mouthed, pawing love handles. You’re wearing Satoru’s t-shirt, something monochromatic and stupidly expensive, and Suguru tears it off of you as his mouth waters.

Coughing, Satoru tilts his head, supports it with elbows on the carpet. His temperament is neutral, teasing even, but for some reason, looking at him makes you sober up to some degree of lucidity that’s sensitive to him. The part of you that wants to please him at all times.

You crawl to him and say his name. It’s child-like. The shrooms make your eyes wide, colors innocence onto your face from the bliss. It reminds him of when you were younger—bruised knees and twigs in your hair from tumbling in the forest with him. Something tugs at his chest.

“You tryin’ to seduce me?” Satoru jeers, tongue licking his teeth. His palm on your face is hot.

You smile and nod. His gaze lowers and he snaps the waistband of your sweats against your hip. Hand on your thigh again, taunting your synapses. You think he’ll take you with his usual ferocity, but he steals your breath with a kiss instead.

The kiss never ends. Maybe they switch in between, but you don’t notice. Your eyes are shut, tight enough to see phosphenes like a galaxy. Blue and purple bleeding into your irises. You feel them pulling you apart, cock filling you up, hands everywhere.

“Fuck,” someone gasps. Something like groveling, desperate hair pulling.

“Inside,” you beg. “Please.”

Satoru watches, mesmerized. The heat of your body, sweat pooling into the divot above your clavicle—it all makes his mouth water, but he stays still on the couch as Suguru pins you to the floor. It’s the most the Six Eyes has felt in months, for some reason, and he hadn’t even taken anything. He half-wishes he could get his hands on something other than you to inject into his veins—maybe then he could learn to be calm or fall asleep at regular times. Anything to stop the odd ache in his chest whenever he looked at you.

He’s never been a man of God. He was God himself. And then he sees you moan out, bliss-wrecked and flooded with light, burning like seraphim. He’d come back to life a thousand times just to see your face. It made him sick.

Satoru kisses you before you knock out on his bed, eyes half-open and dazed. You’re refusing to go to bed, citing euphoria for your desire to run a few laps. Meanwhile, Suguru is asleep on the couch, fucked out and satisfied.

You’re coaxed into sleep. It’s not hard once you start rambling, shut up only by the feeling of Satoru’s fingers running across your scalp. He lays awake like he often does, talking to the moon. He sighs as you nuzzle into him, your whole body curling towards him to ward off goosebumps. You’re nearly bare considering you didn’t bother to put on clothes after you and Suguru had finished.

Satoru pulls the blanket over you, sighing. He’d had the leftover beers in the mini-fridge just to feel a buzz, even the taste of German ales made his nose wrinkle. It still wasn’t enough to put his mind at ease. He stares at the stained carpet, then Suguru’s sleeping shadow, then your face. He shuts his eyes.

It’s been months, yet the memories still cage you. It’s like something wraps its hand around your throat in your subconscious. In each dream, you are aching for their return, and they come to you like newly-bloomed flowers.

It feels like you’ve been waiting for them for centuries, your body stuck in the grass with a bruise over your left eye that doesn’t stop aching. You don’t even know how much you’re bleeding until they return to you again, caressing your sides and pulling away at the sight of a wound.

Your angels are not dead. It’s enough relief for you to keep going, but they still look at you with furrowed brows. Blood spills from your mouth.

“I missed you. I missed you. I missed you.”

Despite the pain, the vision is familiar. You’re too distracted by their beauty, how their mere presence is arcadian in itself. You don’t need anything else. You could die here.

Here, between them and their celestial bodies, in the green, green grass. Spider lilies bloom around you like kisses in blessing as the golden evening swallows you up. There’s a sinking feeling—a literal one, of you descending into the ground in a way that feels like a loose feather falling.

Your angels reach for you until they grasp the whole of you and turn you inside out. They pull apart the mess of you, reshaping you, undoing tangles and knots and bending the stem of your being so you can be reborn in their image. They love you enough to do so.

And when you look back at them with love in your eyes, you flinch. They’re eclipsed by something terrible, too far away for you to reach. It’s bloody. It has a voice like skin scraping pavement, full-bodied whiskey.

You stretch your hand out only meet a sweaty palm. When you open your eyes, a pair of blue ones stare back at you.

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

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f10werfae · 2 years

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Welcome to @f10werfae's library of Henry Cavill💫 Enjoy your stay!

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

Here is my main masterlist for everyone else I write for♥️

[🌟] Favourites/Popular

[☁️] Fluff

[*] Smut

[🌧] Angst

Taglist Form

Lumberjack!Henry x short!shy!reader masterlist

-To request, please send in an Ask or PM me✨

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

➼ Heart Warming [*/☁️]

(Husband!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader)

: Things get a bit hot when Henry uses his magical methods to comfort Y/n ;)

➼ Birthday Cake [☁️/Slight🌧]

(Boyfriend!Henry Cavill x Reader)

:When everyone bails on Y/n's birthday, all seems to be doomed, but not for long

➼ In Sickness and In Health [☁️]🌟

(CEO!Husband!Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Y/n tells a white lie, which ticks Henry off, in the most caring way

➼ What About The Game? [☁️]

(Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Henry introduces Y/n to the world of rugby, not realising what he’s gotten himself into

➼ Dangerous Protection [☁️/slight🌧]

(Mafia Husband!Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Welcome to the life of Henry and Y/n Cavill, the most powerful couple in the whole of Europe and maybe even the world. Watch their romance bloom along with their son Charlie

➼ For Kal, Of Course [☁️]🌟

(Henry Cavill x Interviewer! Reader)

: Henry falls head over heels for someone, over his dog??

➼ Period Pains [☁️]

(Henry Cavill x Reader)

:Henry and Y/n clash on her period, but of course Henry always has something up his sleeve

➼ Brother Bear [☁️]

(Husband!Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Henry and Y/n adjust to their new life with their newborn baby boy

➼ Another One?! [☁️]🌟

(Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Henry is at the premier for The Witcher season 2 and he also took Kal with him, meaning Y/n's been left unsupervised

➼ It’s The Little Things [☁️]

(Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Henry Cavill realising Reader is the one when she does little things for him and Kal, showing that she truly loves and knows them

➼ Hospital Visits [☁️]

(Husband!Henry Cavill x Doctor!Reader)

: Henry injures himself and there’s only one person he trusts enough to look after him

➼ A Proud Boyfriend [☁️/slight * ]🌟

(Boyfriend!Henry Cavill x Flight Attendant!Reader)

: Henry and Y/n are on two different flights, although Y/n knows better than to question the fact that Henry always gets his way

➼ Big Bear Hug [☁️]

(Henry Cavill x Reader)

: When Y/n gets asked to look after her best friend’s dog, she gets a lot more than she bargained for

➼ The Worst Days [☁️/Slight🌧]

(Henry Cavill x Reader)

: Y/n can’t help but feel drained but Henry is there to be the master of distraction

➼ Beard Or No Beard? [☁️]

(Husband!Henry Cavill x Reader)

: reader is trying to brush and bath Kal, but he’s being a diva when it comes to the bath part and being playful. Later on, Henry asks her if she can help him shaving his beard, which at first, she doesn’t want to because she likes it, but he has to shave it.

➼ What's Your Emergency? [☁️/🌧]

(Fiance!Henry Cavill x 911 Dispatcher!Reader)

:Y/n has a challenging day at work and it all comes to blow, thankfully she has her own superman to come and save the day

➼ How Much Is Too Much [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry Cavill x Doctor!Reader)

: Fans retell the best moments of what they see from Y/n and Henry's relationship

➼ Silly Me [☁️]🌟

(Henry Cavill x Singer!Reader)

:Innocent flirting between 2 stars + a cockblock James Corden =??

➼ Marvel VS DC [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry Cavill x MCU Actress! Reader)

:Fans Retell their favourite moments between Y/n and Henry VIA tweets

➼ All Worn Out [☁️*]🌟

(Husband!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader)

: Movie night turns sauce ( not joking, might be the sauciest thing i’ve ever written)

➼ Henry Cavill Fatherhood Scenarios 🌟

(Dad!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader)

=Not a series, just a compilation

Chapter 1

➼ Sign of Love [☁️]

(Henry Cavill x Deaf!Florist!Reader)

:Headcanon of you and Henry's relationship♥️ With a lot of flowers

➼ Handyman [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Pregnant!Reader)

: fans on social media are absolutely in love with Henry and Y/n's relationship, and can’t ignore the fact that the woman is stunningly glowing

➼ Doctor, Doctor [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Doctor!Reader)

: Fans retell their favourite moments from Henry and Dr. Y/n's wedding movie

➼ Baby Doctor [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Doctor!Reader)

: Fans retell the events of what’s going on in the Cavill fam, especially with two new arrivals, the twins Poppy and Lucy

➼ Video Star [*]🌟

(BF!Henry x Excamgirl!GF!Reader)

: After watching one of Y/n's old camgirl streams, a sense of dominance overpowers her boyfriend Henry

➼ Cavill Clan [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Primary Teacher!Reader)

: fans react to Henry's announcement that not only has he gotten married during lockdown, but there is a new addition to the Cavill Clan...a daughter

➼ Wedding Labour [☁️]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Wife!Reader)

: doctor reader goes into labor at her and Henry’s wedding? The twitter reaction format please?

➼ My Wife is fine, thanks [☁️/slight 🌧️]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Wife!Reader)

: Some friendly and not so friendly fans, react to Henry and the reader’s 10+ year age gap

➼ Strawberry Shortcake [☁️*]🌟

(Husband!Henry x Shy!Wife!Reader)

: henry cavill x shy! reader kitchen smut, pls! Apron + daddy + slap on the ass + cock sucking + gropping + size kinks

➼ Sleepy Snuggles [☁️*]🌟

(Boyfriend!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!Reader)

: Henry loves on his cockdrunk girlfriend all through the night, especially during Christmas season

➼ Sugar Sweet Thong [☁️*] 🌟

(Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader)

: After Y/n gets a new thong, away up in his cabin where no one can touch her but him, her wild man of a husband can’t keep his hands off her (Major Dom Henry)

➼ You’re Already So Sexy [☁️*] 🌟

(Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Wife!Reader)

: Henry has to uplift his woman after she has some major insecurities about herself and his pussy, but all she needs is him (Major Dom Henry)

➼ Quick, It’s BeReal [☁️*] 🌟

(Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!Reader)

: Henry where his BEREAL goes off during sex and their friends react; reader has hickies all over her chest and neck and tied up

➼ Mr. Clingy and Kal [☁️] 🌟

(BF!Henry Cavill x Shy!Oblivious!Actress!Reader)

: Fans retell the moments of Henry and Y/n L/n’s relationship despite her being quite the opposite of him. (major clingy Henry)

➼ Two For One [☁️/*]

(Husb!Henry Cavillx Wife!Reader xHusb!Michele Morrone)

: When Y/n ends up in a polyamorous relationship with both of the sexiest men, it only makes sense for her to enjoy herself

➼ My Little Love [☁️/*]

(Boyfriend!Henry Cavill x Short!Reader)

: they're at his parents house because she's meeting his family and one of his relatives says something about their size difference which triggers Henry's size kink (Major Dom, Loving Henry)

➼ No Panties Indoors [☁️/*]

(Lumberjack!Husband!Henry x Wife!Reader)

: Housewife Y/n can’t help but find her wild husband extremely sexy while he’s fixing another one of his projects (Major Dom possessive Henry)

➼ A Virgin’s Lesson [☁️*]

(Boyfriend!Dom!Henry x Virgin!Shy!Girlfriend!Reader)

: When Henry finds out his virgin girlfriend’s needs, and her fears, he takes it upon himself to teach her a finger or two(Dom Henry‼️)

➼ Kissies and Waxed [☁️*]

(Lumberjack!Husband!Henry x short!Shy!Wife!Reader)

: Y/n gets all shy and adorable with her grumpy husband on their wedding night, letting him enjoy his waxed present(Dom Henry)

➼ But That’s Mine Hen! [☁️*]

(Lumberjack!Husband!Henry x short!Shy!Wife!Reader)

: Pouty Y/n gets jealous when her grump of a man is approached by a certain woman; she can't help but stomp her foot and whine, showing everyone that he's hers and vice versa (Dom!Henry)

➼ Expect the Unexpected Baby [🌧️☁️]

(Henry Cavill x Pregnant!Reader)

:Henry breaks up with Y/n, only to discover he’s left something of his behind, his baby. Does he try and reconcile? or Does he just accept the path he’s made?

➼ Sugar Sweet Tongue [☁️*]