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guiltyasdave · 3 months ago

Text

help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest.

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness.

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn.

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him.

“Did I do it again?”

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan.

“What exactly?”

“All of it.”

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands.

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.”

He would much rather wake up like this.

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place.

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight.

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him.

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady.

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.”

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again.

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now.

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches.

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it.

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level.

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it.

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this.

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.”

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh.

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin.

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.”

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him.

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.”

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble.

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat.

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind.

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot.

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.”

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you.

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out.

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm.

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.”

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run.

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice.

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself.

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness.

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down.

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself.

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does.

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain.

“Stop what?” he growls back.

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other.

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released.

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches.

“I’m not—”

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside.

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless.

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat.

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression.

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up.

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly.

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once.

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth.

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay.

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes.

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes.

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world.

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes.

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.”

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release.

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes.

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel.

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—”

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you.

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips.

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin.

“Feels good, kitten?”

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit.

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride.

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again.

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer.

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him.

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving.

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance.

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you.

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good.

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him.

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time.

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—”

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat.

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction.

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot.

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

-> part 2!

#logan howlett #wolverine #james logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x female reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x female reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan howlett fanfiction #janas fics

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softspiderling · 3 months ago

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can i go (where you go?) | j.v

summary:

“Hey, it’s me.”

After a short beat, you opened the door to look at him, your hair wet around your shoulders, water droplets wetting his shirt you were wearing. Despite the early morning hours, Jace felt a some rush of excitement running through him seeing you standing in his shirt in his bathroom.

“You good?”

“I think I just met your brother,” you said lightly, your cheeks pink.

OR; 5 times Jace’s family meets you (and the one time you meet them)

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader

warnings: just incredibly tooth rotting fluff. i’m actually in love with them. in this modern universe, Alicent is married to Rhaenyra’s younger brother Baelon, Rhaenys and Viserys aren’t related, and Addam and Alyn aren’t Corlys’ sons. I think I solved the inbreeding, lol. Also, Harwin and Rhaenyra are happily married <3 (there will probably be more fics in this universe🤭)

word count: 7,2k (HOW)

author’s note: everyone knows i love a good 5 + 1 fic. this was born out of @eldrith and me just coming up with modern au headcanons and modern!jace consuming my thoughts at work. happy happy reading, I hope you're obsessed! <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I Luke

“Jace… Hey, Jace.”

Jace let out a groan, burowing deeper into the cushions, hoping to drown out the voice.

“Jace!”

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him violently and Jace groaned, his eyes fluttering open just to see his brother peer down at him, his damp hair plastered against his forehead. Jace knew it was entirely too early for him to be awake with the way his body still felt too heavy. He glared at Luke, his annoyance clear as day.

“Luke, what the fuck.”

“Hey, I’ve just come from the gym, the showers in my dorm were blocked off because a pipe burst, can I shower here?”

Jace whined, turning his head to face the pillow, hoping it would smother him. Anything to be unconscious again.

“Couldn’t you just have showered at the gym?”

“I have a class at 10,” Luke replied, as if that answered the question.

It didn’t.

Jace didnt react, hoping that Luke would just leave if he feigned falling back asleep, but Luke grabbed him by the shoulders again.

“Jace.”

“Oh my god, just go use the shower, you’re here already!”

“Thanks, you’re the best!”

The mattress dipped again and footsteps receded before Jace was finally alone again, falling back into a slumber.

Wait, had he been alone?

He could distinctly remember you coming home with him the night before but the bed was empty when Jace reached his hand out looking for you. You must have snuck out in the early hours of the day. Jace would definitely confront you about that as soon as he was awake enough to do it.

Just as he was about to drift back to dream land, a high pitched squeal woke him right up, and he shot up in bed, wide awake.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry!”

A door slammed, hurried footsteps came towards his bedroom before Luke barged through the door with wild eyes; shutting it behind him.

“There’s a girl in your bathroom!” He said, his voice accusatory as he glared at Jace, with his back against the door. Luke’s cheeks were red, and Jace wasn’t sure if it was the remaining flush from the gym or because he was embarrassed.

Jace only blinked at him, before wiping his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

Luke frowned at him. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s not-“ Jace broke off, sighing. “It’s not important.”

He got out of the bed, shooing Luke away from the door and padded towards his bathroom, trying to make sure his younger brother hadn’t completely scared you off. The bathroom was locked and Jace leaned against the doorframe, rapping his knuckles against the door.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“You good?”

“I think I just met your brother,” you said lightly, your cheeks pink.

The corner of Jace’s mouth tugged up and he flexed his hand around your waist, pulling you closer. Luke was lucky he met you so early in the day, your temper still subdued from sleep. Had it happened in the afternoon? Luke would’ve gotten an earful.

“Are you okay? I can make him leave if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No it’s fine,” you huffed, hiding your face in his shoulders. “I was not prepared to meet him.”

Jace wrapped his arm around your waist, leaning his chin on your head with a grin. “You don’t have to be prepared to meet Luke. You just meet him and go “what a dork”, there’s not much else after that.”

“Yo!” Luke crowed outside. “I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

“Can I just take a shower please!!!”

Jace rolled his eyes, his hand dropping down to lace his fingers with yours. “Come on, I’ll make you a coffee.”

He pulled you into the kitchen, turning his coffee machine on, meanwhile hearing Luke flee into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. By the time his younger brother emerged again, his hair towel damp, you and Jace were sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in hand, your feet in Jace’s lap.

Luke stood in the door way like a deer in headlights as you and Jace looked at him.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you said lightly; Jace only snorted into his bowl.

“Sorry again… About earlier. I’m Luke,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck, but you only waved it off as you introduced yourself. Luke glanced between the two of you, the wheels in his head must be turning a mile a minute. Jace did not look forward to whatever he was going to say.

“So… Are you guys like going steady?”

You pulled a face and Jace only sighed. Of course he chose to be a dick.

“Get out.”

Luke grinned, having expected the reaction. “Kay. Thanks for letting me use your shower,” he called over his shoulder, “Bye Jace, bye shower girl!”

The door fell shut in its hinges and Jace welcomed the silence that followed.

“I should’ve never given him the spare key,” he muttered, but you only pressed your heel into his leg.

“Stop it, he’s sweet.”

“He’s a menace.”

“He’s your little brother,” you laughed, pushing your empty bowl on the coffee table. “He’s supposed to get on your nerves, it’s literally in the job description.”

His bowl soon joined yours on the table as Jace wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you into his lap. You grinned at him, tucking his hair behind his ear, as he played with the hem of his shirt you were wearing.

“I like that you feel comfortable enough at my place to take a shower,” he mumbled, nosing along your neck.

“Shut up.”

II Rhaena

“Man, that was way too close,” Addam groaned as they walked into the locker room. Their game against the Stags of Stormlands University had ended with 2:1, which was criminal. It should’ve been at least 3:1 and Jace wasn’t even being arrogant. That one goal they scored against them was pure luck.

“Coach is gonna be on our asses during the next practice,” Alyn said as he tugged off his jersey.

“As if he needs a reason to make us run suicides,” Cregan pointed out and Jace shrugged.

“It wasn’t entirely our fault, though. The audience was crazy today. What happened after half time? There was some commotion in the stands.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” Alyn snickered. “Apparently some girl punched Criston square in the face after he made some of his usual comments.”

“What?” Addam asked, his eyebrows risen as Jace only laughed.

“No way. That girl’s my hero.”

“I’m buying her a drink,” Cregan declared. “Do we know who it was?”

Alyn shook his head in no. “Nah, I just overheard some guys talking about it…” he then turned to Jace. “You coming to the bar with us?” Alyn asked. “My treat.”

“I can’t,” Jace replied, but before he could elaborate, Cregan wrapped his arm around his shoulder, squeezing him.

“Lover boy is meeting his girlfriend, he told me all about it.”

Jace’s cheeks tinged pink and he shoved Cregan off, huffing.

“Fuck off.”

“Leave him alone,” Addam said lightly from the bench, untying his shoes. “If I had another choice, I wouldn’t go to the bar with you either.”

“Thank you Addam,” Jace said, giving Alyn and Cregan, who were snickering to themselves, a pointed look. He grabbed a towel and his shower caddy from the locker, turning back to his friends.

“Have fun at the bar. I’ll see you guys around.”

Jace ignored how they made kissy sounds after him, rolling his eyes at them fondly. After taking a quick shower, and getting dressed, he made his way to the spot you had agreed to meet him. He passed a few familiar faces who congratulated him on the win, but he made no attempt to stay in a conversation too long, not wanting to keep you waiting. When he got to the gates of the football field, you were nowhere to be found though. Maybe you were held up by your friends. Jace shot you a text, telling you where he was, then pulling up his family group chat. His parents and Joffrey had gone hiking over the weekend, but his dad had received updates on the game via the uni’s newsletter, both of them sending him well done’s. Luke had watched the game with his friends, and Jace had no doubt he was now at the same bar his team mates were headed to. Jace then pulled up the text chain with you, but his texts to you went unanswered. With a sigh, he opened Find my..? frowning when he saw your icon float over the building that held the student med center.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself, shoving his phone into his pocket, walking to the student med center in quick strides. The building was dark when he arrived, but the door was unlocked when he pulled on it. Jace stood in the dark for a while, his eyes adjusting to the lack of light, when he heard voices coming from somewhere. Following the sound, he reached the examination room, the voices becoming more distinctive.

“-never punched someone, why has no one ever told me that it hurts so much? He’s the one who should be hurt, not me!”

“You’d be surprised. You can actually break something while punching someone.”

Jace paused in the doorway, watching as you sat on the bed, ice pack in your hand, while another girl was rummaging in the cupboards with her back to him. You looked up when he called your name, and the smile on your face nearly made him forget how worried he was.

“Hey,” you said, “Rhaena, this is my-“

“Jace?”

Of course it was Rhaena. Out of all the student meds, it had to be his cousin tending to you. You glanced between them your eyebrows high.

“You guys know each other?”

“Rhaena is my cousin,” Jace explained, distracted, his focus on your hand. “What happened?”

“Supergirl over here punched Cole in the face.”

“Criston Cole?”

“The one and only.”

Jace sighed, sitting down next to you to lift the ice back from your knuckles, frowning when he found them bloody.

“She’s bleeding!”

Rhaena rolled her eyes, holding up some gauze and disinfectant spray. “Yes, I was looking for the gauze, thanks for reminding me.”

Jace frowned as Rhaena sat on your other side.

“This is probably gonna sting,” she warned you, before spraying disinfectant on your wounds, but you winced anyway. Jace watched as Rhaena patched you up, the frown on his forehead not easing.

“Alright, we’re all done,” Rhaena said, balling up the wrapper. “I want you to keep that ice pack on for twenty minutes, it can reduce the swelling. And maybe try to keep it elevated, and lots of resting!”

“Okay,” Jace said, matter of factly.

Both you and Rhaena looked at him - you looking amused, while Rhaena looked exasperated - and he only shrugged.

“What? You know damn well you’re not gonna do anything she just said,” he argued and you grinned, turning to Rhaena.

“Duly noted, thanks Rhaena.”

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Rhaena said, throwing the wrappers in the trash before shooeing you and Jace out of the building. As you walked outside, you and Rhaena seemed to be get along like a house on fire as Jace held your purse, and by the time you were standing out front, you had exchanged numbers.

“Hey, so really come by when I’m working, and I’ll treat you for a coffee,” you said while Rhaena locked up.

“Sure, that’ll be nice,” Rhaena replied, packing her keys away. “It was really nice to meet you.”

You beamed at her. “You too!”

His cousin smiled at you before turning to Jace. “I’ll see you Sunday?”

“Yep. Thanks Rhae.”

Jace gave her a hug, and she quickly hugged you as well, before waving in good bye.

“Bye, see you guys!”

“Bye Rhaena!”

Jace pulled you close as you walked, his forehead still creased. You were supposed to go out for dinner, but by now your reservation had probably fallen through, so Jace might as well just cook you dinner at home. He couldn’t help but glance at your hand, which you noticed immediately.

“Jace, I’m fine,” you insisted with a laugh, grabbing his hand to reassure him, but no dice.

“I know Cole is a pain in the ass, but why did you punch him?” he asked, his forehead creased. “You could get in trouble. And on top of that, you got hurt!”

“It’s just bruised knuckles and a little blood, it’ll be healed before you know it,” you promised him. “Besides, Cole had it coming. He was sprouting bullshit about how he should’ve made the team instead of you and was just being a dick.”

Jace froze mid step, and you were dragged back by him, not having expected the sudden stop.

“You were defending my honor?”

You glanced at him, lips quirking in a smile.

“I’ll always defend your honor.”

In that moment, Jace was so overcome with emotion, he thought he might do something stupid like tell you that he loved you, so he just pulled you into a deep kiss. You sighed softly against his lips, before you pulled back, looking at him in surprise.

“What was that for?”

“Can’t a guy thank his knight in shining armor?”

You snickered, lacing your hands with his.

“You can thank me by getting some food in me, I am starving.”

III Joffrey

“It’s nice here.”

The sun was shining, reflecting its rays over the surface of the water. It was rather still today, a stark contrast to the strong waves that usually lapped at the shore of Driftmark. The small coast town was only an half an hour drive from uni and since you had never been here before, Jace had decided to take you for an impromptu trip, armed with a blanket and some snacks, but not much else. The two of you were sat on said blanket, you sitting between his legs, head resting on his chest. Jace wished it could be like this forever.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to Driftmark,” he said, amused. “My parents used to take us every weekend when we were younger. Luke and I used to fly kites, but his always fell nose first into the sand.”

You laughed, pressing yourself closer into Jace.

“That’s sweet,” you mumbled softly, your voice trailing off. “So how many girls have you taken here?”

Jace rolled his eyes fondly, his finger tracing your arm. If only you knew. He hummed, as if in thought.

“Let’s see, there was that one girl from Lambda Psi, then Jessica from my International Relations class…”

You laughed, squirming in his arms as you smacked his hand away.

“You’re an ass.”

He tightened his hold on you, a grin on his face. “You started it!”

Giggling, you settled back into him and Jace let out a happy sigh, but the moment was quickly interrupted by his phone ringing. He had half a mind to decline the call, but he paused when he saw the caller ID.

“Why is my mum calling me?” Jace said, frowning at his phone before picking up the call. “Hey mum, is everything okay?”

“Jace, thank god,” his mother sighed in relief. The background was noisy, if Jace had to guess, she must be at work. “My meeting is running longer than expected and I won’t be able to make it in time to pick up Joffrey from school, is there any way you could make the drive down here to pick him up?”

Jace glanced at his watch. It was almost 3 in the afternoon and on a good day, it took 25 minutes to get from Driftmark to Joffrey’s school in King’s Landing. But that meant, you’d have to tag along, because there was no way he’d make it in time for Joffrey’s school’s out if he dropped you off beforehand.

“… Mum, can you give me a second?”

His mother paused. “… Sure.”

He muted the call from his side and you had already turned around to face him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s going on?”

“My mum is stuck at work and she asked me to go pick up my brother from school,” Jace started. “I’m not going to make it in time if we’ll make the drive back to Oldtown-”

“Jace, oh my god, it’s fine, let’s go,” you exclaimed, already standing up and collecting all the things you had brought.

Jace stared at you for a second, slack-jawed, before he dipped his head, smiling to himself. He quickly unmuted the phone call while he got to his feet.

“I’ll pick him up mum, it’s not a problem,” he said, while helping you put away the blanket with one hand.

“Thank you, Jace,” his mother said, her tone hesitant, like she was holding back a question, but before she could ask it, another voice called for her. “I’ll call the school and let them know you’re coming,” she said distractedly.

“Okay mum, thanks. Have fun at the meeting!”

Slipping his phone into his pocket, he turned to see you with everything packed.

“Come on, let’s go!” you hurried him, taking his hand to drag him to his car, missing the blinding smile Jace had on his face.

The drive to King’s Landing was quicker than expected, with the streets being free and Jace made it to Joffrey’s school right around 3:30, the cars from several other parents already lined up to enter the pick up zone.

“Are you okay waiting in the car?” Jace asked, turning to you, “I’ll be in and out in no time.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured him, patting his knee.

Jace couldn’t help but lean over to press a kiss on your cheek, nearly missing his turn to find a temporary parking spot, but the security guard waved him along.

“Keep it moving, son.”

“Isn’t this the pick up zone for school?” Jace asked, unbuckling. “I can park here, right?”

The security guard eyed his license plate, before checking his clipboard. “Don’t see your license plate on my list, you gotta keep it moving.”

“You’re joking.”

The man blinked at him, clearly not joking.

“I only need to go in and grab my brother, it won’t even take five minutes,” Jace argued but the security guard shook his head, unrelenting.

“Can’t make an exception, rules are rules.”

Jace opened his mouth to try to make another argument, but behind him, the cars started to honk their horns at him, parents impatient to pick up their kids. Jace’s ears grew hot but before he could lash out at the security guard, you laid your hand on his arm.

“Jace, I can go get your brother.”

“Are you sure?” Jace asked, frowning. He felt bad for making you go along, ruining the day he had planned. You didn’t sign up for this and he didn’t want to make you go into a school full of kids to pick up his brother.

“Yes, I promise,” you said, a smile on your face as you squeezed his hand and he sighed, nodding.

“Okay.”

He gave you a rough description of the way inside the school and Joffrey’s classroom number, before you got out of the car, as Jace exited the pick up zone, but not without giving the security guard a dirty look. He drove around the block, parking his car next to the curb when his phone rang announcing a facetime from you.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Jace asked as he picked up. The screen was blurry, and you were barely visibly as you stared at something behind the camera

“Hey, no, Joffrey just wanted to make sure I wasn’t lying,” you said, distractedly. “Alright Joffrey.”

The camera panned away from you until Joffrey came into view. His baby brother looked sceptical, clutching the straps of his red backpack, but his frown eased when he saw Jace.

“Hi Jace.”

“Hi Joff,” Jace said, his voice soft. “I know mum was supposed to pick you up, but her meeting ran long so she asked me to get you. I’m waiting in the car, alright? Are you going to be okay walking with my friend?”

Joffrey looked off camera, assumedly at you before turning back to Jace, scrunching his nose. “Mummy said I shouldn’t go with strangers.”

“And she’s right!” Jace quickly interjected, knowing his mother would kill him if he unraveled all the things she had been teaching Joffrey ever since he was old enough to talk. “But this is my friend, right? Not a stranger.”

With a purse on his lips, Joffrey seemed to think his words over before nodding.

“Okay.”

Joffrey waved at him through the camera before looking up.

“Can we go now?”

Jace heard you suppress a laughter as the phone shook. Joffrey didn’t look phased.

“Yes,” you said. “Come on, let’s go.”

You offered your hand to him, before you quickly panned the camera on yourself again. “See you in a bit, Jace.”

The call ended and Jace quietly laughed to himself as he tossed his phone on the passenger seat, driving back towards the school. He didn’t wait long in front of the curb when you and Joffrey came walking out, you carrying his backpack and Joffrey carrying a booster seat.

“Alright, now let’s get your backpack in here-” you said, opening the door to put Joffrey’s backpack on the backseat, then scooching it over to put the booster seat on as well. “And then you go into the booster-”

“Hi Jace!”

Jace turned around, smiling as he watched Joffrey settle into his booster seat comfortably while you fussed over him.

“Hi Joff.”

“Okay, now the seatbelt… Is this too tight?” you asked as you buckled Joffrey in, but he shook his head. You gave him a thumbs up, before shutting the door behind him, climbing back into the passenger’s seat so Jace could pull away from the curb.

“How was school?” Jace asked Joffrey with a quick glance at him through the mirror.

“Good,” Joffrey replied, “We learned about shapes.”

He then fully launched into a retelling of how his classmates thought circles and triangles are the same and Jace meant to give you an apologetic look, but to his surprise, you seemed to be listening intently.

“No way! I bet his mind was blown when you told him about rectangles!”

“He thought I was lying!”

Jace quietly snickered to himself and you grinned at him, as Joffrey continued to babble on in the backseat. Without thinking much, Jace had started the drive back to Oldtown.

“Is it okay if I drop you off at home?” Jace asked, his voice quiet, even though Joffrey was humming a song that sounded vaguely familiar to Jace as he looked out of the window, content after telling you about his school day. “I think I’ll drive back to King’s Landing and spend the night at home.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” you said, smiling at him and Jace’s heart did a stupid flip in his chest. He reached over to squeeze your hand, forgetting about his brother in his backseat for a split second.

“What kind of friends are you?”

His neck grew hot and he almost reflexively pulled his hand back, but you tightened your hold.

“The bestest friends,” you said, turning around to look at him with the most serious expression you could muster. Joffrey pressed his lips together in an attempt to bite back a smile, but a giggle escaped his lips.

“Bestest is not even a word.”

“Well, I made it up because Jace and I are bestest friends.”

“You’re silly,” Joffrey laughed and you gasped, faking affront.

The rest of the drive continued about the same until Jace pulled up in front of your building. Your hand was on the door handle, but you threw a look to the back at Joffrey, clearly reluctant to go.

“Bye Joffrey, it was really nice to meet you,” you told him with a smile.

“Bye!”

Your eyes turned to Jace, who desperately wanted to kiss you, but he wouldn’t, not in front of Joffrey, so he only inclined his head at you, hoping you knew.

“Bye,” you said softly, cheeks pink as you got out of the car, shutting the door behind you.

“Bye!” Joffrey called, waving at you through the window until you disappeared inside your apartment building. His baby brother then turned to him, a smile on his face.

“I like her.”

Pleased, Jace settled back into his seat, putting the car back in drive, his eye on his brother through the mirror.

“Me too, buddy.”

IV Aegon

“I don’t get why you won’t just make it official when you’re obviously so into her.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

The music coming from inside was loud, but Jace wished it was louder so he didn’t have to talk about this. Of course he’d rather officially call you his girlfriend than… Whatever it was he was calling you right now. But it was complicated, the both of you starting out casually, no labels.

That was almost four months ago and things had changed. For him at least.

Cregan kicked his foot, forcing Jace to look at him.

“I’m serious, Jace. You’re insanely into her and she obviously likes you too.”

Jace pretended like hearing that didn’t make him happy, looking around for you.

“Where is she anyway?” Jace asked and Cregan only sighed at the obvious attempt of changing the topic.

“Last I saw, she and her foxy friend were trying to get drinks.”

Jace rolled his eyes, pushed himself up from the chair.

“I’ll go look for her,” he said, taking a few steps before turning back to his friend. “And don’t call Alysanne foxy.”

Cregan’s bellowing laughter made Jace grin, and he only shook his head, opening the patio door to head inside. The air was stuffy and smelt of alcohol, but he was used to it as he squeezed past a kissing couple, craning his head over the crowd to try to spot you somewhere in the crowded house. He usually didn’t like splitting up with you at parties because it was a pain finding each other again. You also had an habit to make so many friends in a short amount of time.

When Jace finally made it to the kitchen, he saw the back of your head and he let out a sigh of relief. His face blanched however, when he saw who you were talking to. Calling out your name, you turned around with a cup in your hand as he walked up to you.

“Jacey!”

His cousin grinned widely at him as Jace joined you and Aegon by the kitchen island, as you slotted yourself against his side. You seemed content, like you were enjoying yourself. Jace took that as a good sign.

“Hi Aegon,” Jace greeted him lightly, before turning to you. “I see you’ve met my cousin.”

“Rhaena‘s brother?” You asked, eyebrows raised.

“You met Rhaena?”

Aegon’s brows were even higher than yours as his eyes flitted between Jace and you curiously, sipping on his drink. Jace already knew this would make it into the cousins’ group chat in a matter of minutes.

“Aegon’s from the other side. Kind of,” Jace answered, pulling a face. “It’s complicated.”

You smiled at him and Aegon’s grin only widened. Jace wished he would disappear the way he always did when their grandpa asked for help in the garage.

“So how did you guys meet?” he asked, voice nonchalant. “You don’t look like a PoliSci student to me.”

“I’m not,” you replied, laughing. “Jace always gets coffee at the coffee shop I work at.”

“Oh, which one do you work at?”

“Blackwood’s, the one on 50th?”

Aegon’s eyes widened and he nodded his head quickly. “Yes, I know that one. Do you think you could give me the recipe for the almond croissants? I’ve tried recreating them so many times and they never turn out like the one’s at the coffee shop.”

“I can ask my friend, if you want me to,” you offered. “It’s her uncle’s coffee shop, he’s gotta have the recipe.”

“Oh and what about the syrups, are those-”

“Alright, this isn’t 20 questions,” Jace interjected, knowing there was no stopping Aegon if he started talking syrups. “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Aegon?”

Aegon pressed his lips together in a grin, shaking his head. “Fine, Jace, I’ll leave you guys alone. But only because I know I’ll have other opportunities to ask for recipes.”

Jace narrowed his eyes at his cousin, but he had turned his attention to you.

“Nice talking to you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you at one of our family events, yeah?”

“Bye Aegon.”

Jace could hear Aegon cackling to himself as he lead you away, his hand on your lower back. He was mortified. Out of everyone at this party, you just had to run into Aegon. To Jace’s luck however, you seemed mostly amused by his erratic cousin.

“I like him,” you said and Jace huffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to lie. I don’t like him either.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully. “I’m not lying. He’s very outgoing, but I like him.”

Jace pressed closer to you as you made your way out of the pation and you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing at him.

“So is your entire family just enrolled here?”

“Basically, yeah,” Jace sighed, “The only cousin of mine who’s not at this uni is Daeron but apparently he’s transferring next term.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet all of them.”

Jace let out a laugh, wrapping his arm around you when you finally made it out of the house, Cregan still sitting on the sun chairs, Alysanne next to him as they talked. Jace had wondered where you had left her.

TARGTOWERS 2.0

Aegon [01:21 am]: have y’all met jace’s new gf yet??

Jace left the chat.

Aegon added Jace to the chat.

Jace [02:04 am]: I hate you

Aegon [02:05 am]: <3

V Harwin

“If my husband doesn’t look like that like 25 years down the line, I definitely did something wrong.”

Jace only caught the tail end of the conversation, but knowing you and Alysanne, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what you were talking about. The two of you found the most bizarre things to talk about, it was astounding.

“What are we talking about?” he asked nevertheless, pulling out a chair next to you.

“There was this hot guy at the coffee shop earlier today, trying to find a good restaurant for dinner with his son,” Alysanne explained and you nodded.

“Super hot.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel special.”

You quirked a grin at him, leaning over to kiss him, your hand on his leg. Eagerly, Jace returned the kiss, deepening it which might be a tad inappropriate for the library, but he didn’t care. He never did when it came to you.

“Eurgh,” Alysanne said, rolling her eyes. Jace paid her no mind, already used to her antics, but you pulled away before it could any less PG13.

“Hi,” you mumbled, licking over over lips and Jace resisted the urge to kiss you again. “Am I seeing you tonight?”

“I might come over a little later than usual,” he said with a sigh, playing with the straps of your top. “Luke said he wanted to meet me for dinner.”

“Can you guys please go to Jace’s?” Alysanne interjected “I’d really love to have one night without hearing you guys have sex.”

“Oh come off it, Aly,” you laughed, swatting at your friend and she snickered. “You’re literally on the other side of the apartment and we barely hang out at our place.”

Alysanne stuck her tongue out at you and you only flipped her off before turning back to Jace.

“So eleven?”

“Yeah, sounds about right,” he said, nodding. “But I’ll text you, yeah?”

You hummed, and Jace pulled your chair closer to his, almost forgetting he had come to the library to study for a test. Next to you, Alysanne was rolling her eyes but he could tell that she was pleased by the way she let her hair fall over the side to give you privacy.

Well, as much privacy there was in a university library.

“How did you find out about this place anyway, dad?” Jace asked, reaching for his beer.

Turned out, Luke didn’t want to get dinner. Their father did. He had a work thing in Driftmark and decided to make it to Oldtown for a quick visit, surprising Jace. His dad felt bad for missing Jace’s first game of the season; he had always made it to Jace’s first game of the season ever since he started playing football when he was 7 years old. It was like an unspoken tradition.

Harwin Strong was a man of tradition and loyalty, and even though Jace had promised him it wasn’t that much of a deal, he had felt guilty either way.

“This nice girl at the coffee shop recommended it to me,” his father said, and Jace nearly spat out his beer all over the table. So it must have been his father you and Alysanne had been talking about earlier in the library. God really loved to play games with him.

“What coffee shop?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible. Maybe it was just a coincidence, right? There were lots of coffee shops in Oldtown.

“Blackwood’s I think? She said this was her boyfriend’s favorite restaurant,” his father explained, glancing over the menu. Jace’s heart stuttered in his chest at the word boyfriend before his father grimaced. “Well, she paused between boy and friend. It seemed like there was more to the story but I didn’t want to pry.”

“How funny,” Luke said, peering over his menu. “This is Jace’s favorite restaurant, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jace pressed out, glaring at his brother while kicking him in the shins.

“Ow!”

“Boys, please.”

Jace and Luke exchanged dirty looks, before turning their attention back on their menus.

“You know what I don’t understand?” his father started, but Jace interrupted him before he could continue.

“The steak sizes are their thing, no one actually orders the 14 oz steak.”

His father furrowed his eyes at him, confused.

“What? No, I’m going to order the fish,” he said, shaking his head. “What I was trying to say is, what is it with your generation and casual dating?”

Jace’s ears grew hot and Luke howled in laughter, nearly falling off the chair. His father glanced between them.

“Did I miss something?”

“No,” Jace said pointedly in Luke’s direction before turning back to his father. “I’m not saying that casual dating is good, or whatever, but sometimes it’s… Complicated.”

“Complicated?” his father echoed. “Either you love someone or you don’t. When I first met your mother, I knew immediately that she was the one for me. I wasn’t going to waste my time on casually dating her.”

“That sounds really smart,” Luke said, nodding earnestly, but Jace only rolled his eyes. What an idiot. “Sounds like something a lot of people our age should do.”

“How was Econ 101, Luke?” Jace asked, his voice low and Luke narrowed his eyes at him.

“Wimp!”

“Narc!”

“So!” their father said, clearly ignoring their exchange, laying his menu down as he looked at his two eldest sons. “Are there any people in your life I should meet, Jace?”

Jace only sighed, leaning back in his chair while Luke burst out in laughter again.

“Dad, come on.”

+ I

You had been quiet for the most of the drive, which made Jace nervous. You hadn’t been his girlfriend long before his grandpa’s birthday rolled around. Actually, Jace had finally broke down and asked, begged, you to finally go out with him for real the night he got home from dinner with his father and Luke. Something about the way his father spoke about him and his mother just made Jace realize he hated this unlabeled, uncertain situationship he had with you. He wanted something real.

He was scared shitless when it took you a good minute to reply God, it took you long enough!

About a month later, his mother had texted him about the plans for his grandpa’s birthday and he had decided it was about time you met his family. You had met most of them already anyway.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” you suddenly said, eyes darting outside the window.

“What? Why?” Jace said, glancing over at you. He had half a mind to stop the car, but it was less than 2 minutes before he’d be home.

“I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Babe.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

Despite being one turn away from his house, Jace pulled up to the curb, turning off his car. Uttering your name softly, he reached over to grasp your hand.

“You don’t need to worry, I promise,” he assured you. Your hands were clammy, you must be so much more nervous than he had initially thought, which was endearing, really. “You’ve already met most of them, remember? And they all love you.”

“So far,” you corrected him and he sighed in exasperation, giving you a fond smile.

“You’ve already met the worst person in my family and Aegon still spams our groupchat with pictures from the pastries he’s baking with the recipes you gave him. The rest of my family is harmless compared to him.”

You quirked a smile at him, letting out a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Jace hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He squeezed your hand, not letting go as he started his car again. Even when you walked up to the front porch, past all the cars in the drive way, you were still holding onto his hand, like a lifeline in a storm.

It didn’t take long until the heavy wooden door opened, and Luke stood before them, grinning.

“I was wondering when you guys would get here,” he said, turning to his side. “Mum, it’s Jace and his girlfriend!”

“Thanks for that, dummy,” Jace hissed, punching Luke’s arm as he passed him. Luke winced in pain, glowering at his older brother, waving at you with a smile. Jace lead you through the entry hall into the living room when Joffrey came running around the corner, latching himself to your legs as he called out your name.

“Hi Joffrey,” you laughed, ruffling the young boy’s hair. “How are you?”

“So good!”

Your nerves seemed to calm as you chattered away with Joffrey, having dropped Jace’s hand for his brother’s, but Jace didn’t mind. Your feet came to a slow stop however, when you reached the living room.

His mother was fixing up the flowers on the table, beaming when she saw you come in.

“Jace!”

“Hi mum.”

Jace hugged his mother in greeting, before taking your hand. “Mum, this is-”

“Oh, welcome to the family,” his mother said, pulling you into a hug as well, surprising you as you let out a laugh.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” you said shyly, smiling at his mother when she pulled away to look at you.

“And you! I have been waiting for the day Jace finally introduced us! I just knew that he was with a girl when I asked him to pick up Joffrey,” she said, shaking her head fondly. “He was so defensive when I tried to ask for details.”

“Mum,” Jace protested and his mother only waved him off.

“Your father must be wrangling with your cousins in the kitchen… Honey, Jace and his girlfriend are here!”

“I’m coming!”

His father walked into the living room with a strawberry cake in his hand, a smile on his face when his eyes laid on you, before turning to Jace, then back to you, realization dawning on him.

“That’s the boyfriend?”

You flushed, nodding with a laugh.

“Yes.”

His father only shook his head, giving you a brief hug before glancing at his son.

“I taught you better, son.”

“I know dad,” Jace sighed, ducking his head when his father reached out to ruffle his hair.

His mother seemed confused, though it didn’t help when his cousins and Luke tumbled out of the kitchen, bickering. As usual.

“- stop it! You’ll ruin the cake!” Aegon lifted the cake out of Baela’s grasp, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. “Oh, hey! Told you we’d see each other at one point!”

“Supergirl, how’s the hand doing?”

“Supergirl? She’s obviously shower girl.”

“… Do I even want to know?”

His mother glanced around the room, starting to connect the dots.

“Am I the only one who hasn’t met you yet?”

“I haven’t met her yet!”

The rest of his cousins rushed forward to introduce themselves and you nearly sank into a wave of white hair with Joffrey still hanging off your arm. You seemed to be doing well, though, Baela and Helaena laughing as Rhaena recounted the story of how you met and Aemond and Daeron trying to give you tips on how to punch someone without getting injured.

“I like her,” his mother said as she bumped his shoulder.

Jace’s chest warmed, though he shrugged. “You barely know her yet.” Even though he knew his family would like you no matter what, it felt good to hear it spoken.

“She seems to be handling herself well around your cousins and it looks like to me she already won half of them over,” his mother pointed out. “Most importantly, she makes you happy.”

“Wait, you punched Criston Cole? But I like him.”

“Of course��you like him, Aegon.”

Your laughter rang out between the bickering, and you turned to catch Jace’s eyes, beaming at him. He smiled, ducking his head. God, he was so in love.

“Yeah.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: what are we thinking???

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #Jacaerys x you #Jace x reader #Jace x you #hotd #house of the dragon #Jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #Jacaerys velaryon fic #Jacaerys velaryon imagine

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softevie · 29 days ago

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safe in your hands

pairing: hongjoong x female reader

warnings: smut under the cut so mdni, established relationship, morning sex, safe sex, fingering (f receiving), mutual masturbation, overstim, small dick size (orrrr below average I guess?) (I’m not sure how to tag this one since I’ve never seen anyone here write something like this)

a/n: reader lowkey struggles with vaginismus and yeah it’s a total projection. this is for everyone who has trouble putting anything inside themselves lol <3 also. can’t get out of my mind that gray long sleeve shirt he wears to sleep, you all probs know what I’m talking about

word count: 2.1k

The birds chirping outside is the first thing you register when you slowly drift out of a nice dream you were having and into reality. The second thing is how warm you are, face buried in your boyfriend’s chest, your legs tangled together with his. July sun is filtering through the curtains and warming your back, which is turned to the window. You stir a bit to get some movement in your stiff neck, then open your eyes, and see his soft face drowned in warm morning light. There he is. Peaceful. Perfect. Yours.

Your mind slowly catches up with reality, and you remember that it’s Saturday morning and neither of you have to be anywhere; there’s nowhere to rush. You allow yourself to bask in this moment. It’s rare in this hectic life to feel so peaceful, so you decide to appreciate the moment and commit it to your memory. You focus on the way your body slots perfectly against his. His arm lays over your torso; it relaxed through the night, but you remember his strong embrace from when you were both just falling asleep. His strong back under your palm, where you're gently running it over his soft gray sleep shirt.

He sighs softly and opens his eyes, slowly focusing on you. You witness his mind waking up and recognizing you. He smiles and whispers “Good morning”. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“Morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

He hums and moves closer, putting his face in your neck and inhaling your scent. Your legs are still tangled together, your thigh between his legs, basically pressing into his crotch, and his thigh between yours. When he hugs you closer, you both sigh at the soft stimulation you cause each other. You lower your hand to his waist and sneak it under his shirt. You can’t help yourself and grind slightly on his strong thigh. You run your hand over his skin, trying to gauge his reaction. Suddenly he moves his thigh, rubbing it against your core, making you gasp.

“You want me, love?” he mumbles into your neck, his warm breath making you shiver and feel goosebumps rise all over your skin.

“Mhmm…” you offer instead of a coherent reply. You can’t even put into words how much you want, need him.

You reach into his pajama bottoms and take him in your hand, your small fist easily covering two thirds of his length, although your thumb struggles to meet the tips of the other four fingers. Caressing him with your palm, you feel him harden under your soft touch. His hand sneaks under your t-shirt, ghosting over your waist before moving up and cupping your breast. His small but strong hands always feel so right on your body. You sigh contently and start pumping him slowly, not needing to move your hand a lot. The way he steadily grows firm in your hand makes your head spin with want. You want to whine, you want to scream with how much you need him close, even closer than now; it’ll never be close enough. He moves his leg and presses his thigh gently into your crotch, and your breath catches at the spark of pleasure.

The slow grind is nice, but really it’s everything about him that turns you on and makes your core clench. It’s the fact that you’re here with this man, and you get to have him like this. It’s the little gestures and caresses that express his feelings for you, his want for you; show that he desires you just as much as you do him.

He moves his hand lower, smoothing his fingers down your waist again. His knee lowers, making way for his hand to cover your crotch instead and rub you through your underwear, pressing his thumb into your clit. You let out a needy whine, to which he laughs softly against your neck. He knows perfectly well how to push your buttons. Alright, two can play this game. You decide to retaliate by playing with the head of his cock with your thumb, dipping it into the slit and rubbing it there. You revel in how much precome is oozing out of him, making your movements smoother. Just like you expected, you hear a low groan and feel soft breath on the skin of your neck.

He moves away suddenly, panting, cheeks pink. You whine again at the loss of his warmth and his hands on you, and try to pull him closer by his shirt, but he just shushes you and gives you a kiss to the forehead.

“Just one moment, love.”

He shortly turns to open the nightstand on his side of the bed and then turns back, dropping a small bottle of lube and a condom on the bedsheets. He helps you to take your underwear off, carefully sliding them down and off your legs, flinging them over his shoulder.

You bite your lip in anticipation as you watch him coat his fingers with clear liquid. He runs them through your folds, watching your face carefully when he starts to slowly press his pointer finger in. You’re fine taking it, but he still takes his time to pump it in and out, and make sure it meets no resistance. It’s only when he starts to press his middle finger in as well that you tense up a bit. He leans down and puts his mouth on your neck; it does little to distract you from the stretch, but his kisses still feel so nice. You swallow and cling to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“It’s alright, angel, you’re doing so well for me.” His hot breath and tongue against your neck could just make you forget about every worry in the world.

He just keeps the two fingers inside of you and gently rubs your clit with his thumb, letting you get used to the intrusion. You try to steady your breathing and relax as much as possible; to focus on the feeling of his fingers inside you and his thumb bringing you sparks of pleasure. After a while, when the pressure is no longer as oppressive inside you, wiggle your hips a little to indicate you’re comfortable enough, and he scissors his fingers a bit just to make sure you’re ready for him. The fingers start to pump slowly in and out of you, the squelching sounds filling the bedroom. Hongjoong lifts his head to kiss your cheek and catch your gaze, searching for any signs of discomfort.

“How are you doing, baby?”

His touch, outside and inside, makes you shiver all over, and you barely have the presence of mind to reply to him.

“Good, I’m good. Just like this, please,” you breathe out. His fingers keep working you until you feel your thighs start to shake, and you grab his wrist hurriedly, trying to get the words out as fast as possible. “I’m ready, honey, please, I want you now.”

He removes his fingers, still leaving kisses on your face, and reaches for the condom. With heavy breaths, you watch as he takes his cock out of his pants and puts the condom on, before slicking it up with more lube. You look up and see him already staring back, a smirk forming on his lips. Without saying anything, he just looks at you while pumping his cock a few times, and God, if it isn’t the hottest sight in the world.

He makes you hike your leg up and over his waist, and now it’s a perfect position for him to line himself up with your entrance while you’re both on your sides. He takes himself in his hand and runs the head of his cock over your folds, rubbing it against your clit; not entering yet, just teasing. It’s such an intimate gesture, you even get a little flustered, despite the many filthy things you’ve done together.

He doesn’t push right in, just keeps the pressure light but insistent until your body opens up and is ready to take him. The blunt head of his cock pushes in easily enough. He lets you get used to it before slowly pushing further between your walls. You both sigh in satisfaction when he’s completely buried in you, your bodies sharing heat, your heartbeats and pulses synchronized.

He buries his face in your neck again, and you wonder if it’s his favorite place on the earth to be. You’re the one who starts moving first, grinding your hips against him and clenching around his hard cock inside you. The breathy moan he lets out is easily one of the best sounds you ever heard in your life. He sucks the skin on your neck, sure to leave a blooming mark, and digs his fingernails into your back, making you gasp. Slowly, he moves his hips back until only the tip of his cock is inside, then just as carefully slides back into your heat. When you both find a steady rhythm, he wraps his arm around you, bringing your bodies even closer if it were possible, and picks up the speed. Taught by experience you both keep the thrusts shallow lest he slips out of you.

The realization of how perfect he is for you almost makes you too emotional for the current situation. It’s just the right size to feel that pressure inside that makes arousal course through your body in waves which start in your lower belly and travel all throughout your abdomen, muscles clenching deliciously.

You still remember bracing yourself for rejection, when you decided to explain early on that it takes some extra effort for you to do this basic sex act, and the shy smile on his face when he told you that maybe you both will fit together just fine. The memory brings a gentle smile to your lips. You’re so grateful for him. And you know he can still get insecure, so you always make sure to remind him he’s perfect for you, whether inside you or in your hand, or when you take him in your mouth. With him, you feel… Safe. Just as he is safe with you.

He picks up the pace, his moans becoming whinier.

“Fuck, honey”, he pants in your ear, sounding helpless as if his hips are moving on their own accord. It’s amazing every time to see him lose control because of how good it feels to be inside you. He slows down and rolls on his back, and you end up lying on top of him. He circles his arms around your waist, plants his feet on the bed for leverage, and starts thrusting up in you. You can’t do much but pant in his neck and whine as he pushes in you again and again with abandon, like he might die if he stops fucking you.

“Baby,” he whines, “I’m so sorry, I…”

There’s no rhythm to his movements anymore, and you know his mind is completely lost in how good it feels — your inviting heat enveloping him on every thrust, soft muscles squeezing his cock so nicely.

You bring your hand to his hair to pet it gently.

“It’s okay, my sweet boy. Just take what you need.”

The lewd squelching and slapping sounds and his desperate moans are all that can be heard in your bedroom right now. With a final gasp, his hips still as his whole being is overcome with euphoria. Even through the barrier of the condom, you can feel him releasing warm cum into it, and honestly, it just turns you on even more.

Without catching his breath, he brings his right hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in soft circles. He starts grinding up into you, while he hasn’t gone completely soft. Through the fog of approaching orgasm in your head, you barely hear him whining from overstimulation on his poor sensitive cock, but he’s still moving, completely focused on you. With your core muscles clenching involuntarily and your whole body feeling like there’s molten lava coursing through your veins, you know it won’t take long for your own release to arrive.

“Please, I’m so close,” you whine in his neck, nearly clawing at his shoulders. His thumb presses into your sensitive clit more insistently, but still keeping the movements slow. You can swear you feel pure electricity running through your legs as the orgasm finally shakes your body, and you hear Hongjoong let out a whiny gasp as his cock is trapped inside your heat.

When you regain control of your body, you move a bit higher, releasing his soft cock, but still resting your body on top of him, both of you catching your breath. He’s still hugging you close when he turns his face to peck your cheek.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes, please”, you say, smiling against his neck.

#kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #ateez smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong x y/n #ateez fanfic

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whimsiwitchy · 3 months ago

Text

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part two)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: I truly appreciate every single one of you who has enjoyed this story and has shown it love. I want to have a slow start to things so I hope everyone appreciates a good slow burn lol. enjoy! <3

part two: pathetic

London was absolutely beautiful. You’d always dreamed of coming here- simply exploring anywhere out of America really. It was so fun being in a foreign place hearing silly accents all day, you loved it. You wanted nothing more than to do a world tour for your debut album but your label decided to play it safe by only touring around North America. Now that you were here, you dreamed bigger and would try your hardest to gain the fan base it took to have a world tour. Traveling was honestly one of the best perks of being famous.

famous

It was a word you were still getting used to as it almost felt shallow to refer to yourself as such. Though it was true. You were famous. Having that interaction with Hugh and Ryan yesterday made the reality sink in even more. Two men who had been in the industry for decades knew who you were, it was mind boggling to put it simply. The embarrassment seemed to keep creeping in when you would remember your interaction between the two men yesterday. The yelp of surprise and the quick, but loud, ‘holy shit’ that was thrown from your mouth involuntarily made you cringe. Hugh asking about Pedro was something you weren’t prepared for at all either. It made sense for him to ask, if he was a close friend of Pedro’s then your name being brought up didn’t seem like the oddest thing. However, never meeting Hugh before, you wished the conversation could have been different.

Ugh stupid hot, tall, older, Australian man that could sing. He was literally everything you found attractive bundled up into one man. You had a brief obsession with The Greatest Showman, as every theater kid did, but your celebrity crush of the movie was Zac Efron. If only freshman you could see current you, she’d probably laugh.

Hugh had been on your mind all night and hadn’t left since you woke up this morning. If you could remember, you’d be certain he was the focus of your dreams too. The following and the comment was shocking to say the least. From Ryan’s words, they were fans but why did he follow you after he had met you instead of before. Ha, as you think about it more, it probably wasn’t even him. It was more than likely someone who was hired to run his socials, just like the person on your team that posted that photo for you. You were definitely overthinking it all…This morning when you were brushing your teeth, you kept trying to remember the feeling of his big hand on the base of your spine. It was all a bit pathetic.

“Helloooo…earth to y/n.” Ashley, your best friend, says as she snaps her fingers in front of your face. “Are you going to tell me what has you all spaced out or do I have to deal with you moping around this entire trip?” There's a hint of annoyance in her voice.

Ashley has been your best friend since middle school. She was always your number one supporter, so in return, you take her almost everywhere with you. Of course you invited her to London and of course she planned an entire itinerary around your busy work schedule. Her company was appreciated but it was impossible to hide your emotions from her, making moments like this difficult.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothing really, it can wait until later.” If the two of you weren’t sitting in the middle of a small cafe, you would have told her every single thought that sat in your brain, but you couldn’t. You never knew who was listening in on your conversations. That became something you had to get used to, not being able to exist in public. It usually wasn’t too bad, for example, you could sit in a cafe with your best friend but sometimes things got out of hand and you couldn’t even walk down the street.

“Okay, you better.” She gave you an understanding nod. “So, I bought us tickets to go on the London Eye at 2pm then I thought we could go grab a late lunch or dinner, whatever you-” You’re looking at her and nodding trying your best to pay attention but you can’t. You hated the way one singular interaction with Hugh had your entire day scrambled. If you ever saw him again, you’d have to tell him off for being so hot and ruining the fun London trip you had planned.

—

The wait for the London Eye ended up taking an extra forty five minutes and Ashley was pissed. She was a very schedule oriented person, one minute off and she’s stressed the fuck out. The entire time we waited, she complained and would have had the king on the phone if you hadn't stopped her. Her mood was unchanged by the time you stepped into your private cart.

“If I tell you all of my boy drama, would it make you calm down and enjoy the ride?” You ask slyly as you look down at the water below as the wheel starts to move the bubble you’re sitting in higher.

She gasps and her eyes go wide.

“BOY DRAMA???” She screams out, her previous negative mood disappearing and her eyes light up with excitement.

You sigh as you gather your thoughts.

“Well..it’s not really drama. I may or may not have a teensy crush on someone.”

“Oh my god!! Who is it? Have I met them?”

“Uh no. I actually just met him-” She’s cutting you off before you can finish your sentence.

“YOU SLUT!” She yells, pointing an accusing finger at you.

“What the hell Ash? I didn’t even tell yo-”

“It’s Hugh fucking Jackman isn’t it? Stacy said she saw the way you looked at him yesterday. Jesus y/n, you don’t even know the guy.” She’s rambling on, judgment clear in her voice.

“Since when are you and Stacy on talking terms?” You purposely ignore everything else she said. Ashley was jealous of Stacy for awhile. When you asked her about it she claimed that Stacy was trying to steal her best friend away. It took a lot of reassurance that the relationship you had with Stacy was work before friendship- and if she had become a good friend along the way, that was something you weren’t going to tell Ashley.

“We can be civil when it comes to concerns for you.”

“And what concerns are there lately?”

“Huh… Stacy let me in on your little conversation yesterday about swearing off men for a little bit but once Hugh stepped through the door, she said that she could tell that idea was out the window.” She’s trying her hardest to keep a straight face but there was a slight smirk peeking through.

“Oh my fucking god, you guys are so dramatic. Yes he’s fine as FUCK but like you said I dont know him. I probably won’t ever see him again.” You sigh at the end. You really wanted to see him again.

“What even happened that has you wrapped around his finger already?” You don’t speak for a moment as you think about how to say your thoughts without feeling dumb.

“Please don’t tell me you only have a crush on him because he’s hot…You take your crushes too far for that.” There's a look of panic resting on her face.

“He uh…well…you know how we took the pictures yesterday for BBC?” You ask and she's nodding. “I thought he looked good but I swear I wasn’t thinking anything irrational. It was when we had to take those stupid pictures and he rested his hand on my back…Ash, I swear there was a spark or something. It felt so… I don’t know…so.. right?” The cart you’re in is sitting at the top of the wheel and you’re taking advantage of the view while you wait for Ashley to respond. When she doesn’t, you turn to look at her. She’s staring blankly at you, giving you slow blinks.

“What?” Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“Y/n, how old is he?” Her expression is unchanging.

“Fifty five…I googled it last night..” You were feeling ashamed of your behavior. You felt like a kid with a stupid school crush. Pathetic.

“Hm, that’s your oldest yet. What’s next, eighty or ninety five is probably more to your taste huh?” She’s making fun of you and it hurts. You know she’s never approved of your taste in men but you can’t really help it. It’s not like you block out guys your age, they just don’t satisfy you. They’re mean, boring, and losers. You wanted a real man. Someone who was established in life and could take care of you.

“Whatever..” You let out softly. The cart was nearing the bottom once again and you were ready to be free of the room of gossip and judgment.

“Y/n… you know I only want what’s best for you. I mean look at what happened with Pedro and all the other men before him.” She’s sincere and you understand her point of view but you wished she would understand yours as well.

“I know Ash. It’s just a stupid crush anyways.” It was more of a reminder to yourself rather than to Ashley. She was right, you did have a habit of taking your crushes too far. You always had to try to get the guy who held your attention but you were confident in who you were. Most times it worked but a break from dating was what was best for you.

—

To apologize for being mean, Ashley was currently on the phone with some poor worker from one of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurants. She already made a reservation for tomorrow night but thought tonight would be better to cheer you up. You tried to reason with her by telling her that there were plenty of great restaurants in London we could get into tonight, but she insisted on having a very touristy dinner tonight instead of tomorrow, like it made any of a difference.

“I know the reservation is for tomorrow but miss y/l/n needs it for tonight.” Her voice is strong and unwavering, determined to get a table tonight. She’s been throwing your name around left and right hoping that someone would know who you were. It all felt too pretentious for your liking but you couldn’t control Ashley when she was like this.

You were sprawled across your hotel bed, scrolling through instagram. The voices inside your head were screaming to look at Hugh’s page, just a peak. Last night after you saw the comment, you practically threw your phone across the room, too afraid to look at it again. You're honestly thankful for that reaction because who knows how long you would have stayed awake thinking about it and diving into his life. You did make that quick google search to see just how old he was but that was the end of your exploration.

Your fingers moved faster than your brain could process, typing his name into the search bar and clicking his profile the second it popped up. You didn’t have to scroll far into his account before your heart started to race. You clicked on a mirror selfie he had posted of him in his wolverine costume with sunglasses on. The pose and the caption really showed his age but for your sick brain, it made everything about him even sexier. You cautiously swiped out of that picture to prevent an accidental like. The next picture to catch your attention was one of Hugh in the trunk of a car. Your eyes almost jump out of your face with your tongue rolling onto the ground like the cartoons. The size of his arm was insane. You weren’t one to go for muscular men, but Hugh could choke you out with that arm any time he wanted to. His smile was so dreamy. You hadn’t seen Deadpool and Wolverine yet, not really having interest before, but now you might have to take a solo trip to the movies. You were cooked.

“Thank you, I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement. Yes tonight at 8pm.” Ashley is hanging up the phone and lets out a high pitched squeal.

“How do you do that?” You’ve always been amazed at her negotiating skills and her ability to get whatever she wants.

“Natural talent..also having a famous bestie doesn’t hurt.” She giggles and checks the time. Her laughter turns to a gasp. “We have to get ready, it’s already 6pm!” She’s gathering her things and as she’s rushing out of the door, she’s telling you that she’ll be back soon to get dolled up together.

You had to learn how to style yourself over the past year of being in the limelight. Fashion was something you had been interested in but in Minden, if you dressed too out of the ordinary, people would stare. You shied away from it for longer than necessary and only recently learned how to express yourself freely thanks to your stylist, Kat. For dinner, you picked out a lengthy fitted black dress. It had the prettiest floral pattern that covered it with butterflies popping up here and there. What sold you on the dress though were the two frilly pieces of fabric that hung on either side of the dress. It was stunning and it looked even better on you. You decided on letting your hair sit in its natural state, not caring to put much effort into it.

When Ashley came tumbling back into your room, wearing a red fitted dress, the two of you put some music on and got to work. You weren’t going for a super complicated makeup look, simply deciding on a small winged eyeliner, mascara, a dark blood red lip stain, and a hint of blush. Layering a few necklaces and adding some hooped earrings, your look was almost complete. All that was left were a pair of black heels that had two strings that you effortlessly swirled around your calf tying it into a cute bow at the top.

“You look smoking hot! Let me take a picture of you.” Ashley whistles and grabs your phone to take a few shots. She was right, you looked good. You decided to post one of the pictures of your instagram story with a small caption that said ‘dinner time 😋’.

What you loved about Ashley is that she took your fame with a grain of salt most of the time. When you wanted to take an uber or taxi somewhere, she never complained. You often got tired of taking private cars everywhere, wanting a little normality when you could get it. The uber ride over was a quiet one, both of you too focused on the view outside of your own windows, soaking in the reality of being in Europe.

The restaurant was gorgeous. It wasn’t over the top fancy with normal everyday people littering the dining area, it was nice. Ashley and yourself were in quiet conversation as you looked over the menu. Feeling adventurous, you asked the waitress what she recommended and you ended up ordering the dish. Sipping on your espresso martini, you took a moment to feel grateful for the life you got to live.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Ashley is sighing with a slight roll of her eyes.

“Good evening y/n.” A voice is approaching behind you before you could question Ashleys sudden annoyance. It was a voice you recognized, hearing it the day before. You turn around to see Hugh standing behind your left shoulder and you stand up to greet him properly. You’ve gotten accustomed to hugging almost everyone you meet nowadays, you lean in without thinking.

“Oh my god! Hi Hugh.” There's a big grin on your face. It felt like a sign that you were seeing him again.

“I don’t want to bother you ladies for too long. I recognized your dress and wanted to come say hi. I also wanted to apologize for bringing up Pedro yesterday, it was rude of me to do without even introducing myself first.” He lets out in his gruff voice, accent strong. His arm and yours are still interlocked in a weird side hug type of position.

“It’s totally fine, you didn’t know.” You look into his eyes with utmost sincerity. “Oh uh, this is my best friend Ashley. Ashley, this is Hugh.” He breaks the side hug to reach to shake Ashley’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Hugh lets out and Ashley responds with a short ‘you too.’ You give her a look that says ‘be nice’.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. It was really nice seeing you again sweetheart.” He smiles down at you.

“It was nice seeing you again as well.”

“Here let me.” He’s motioning to your chair. You take a seat and he's pushing it forward for you.

“Thank you.” Looking back at him with a shy smile. He gives your shoulder a squeeze of acknowledgment and he’s walking away.

“Maybe the universe does want you with a man old enough to be your grandfather. I mean what are the fucking odds of running into him at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant.” Ashley lets out in total disbelief.

You don’t say anything, you give a sly shrug instead. The rest of the dinner is tame. The food was delicious and you felt woozy from the martinis you’d been downing. Ashley let you know half way through the dinner that Hugh was sitting not to far from us and that he ‘had a fucking staring problem’, her words exactly. It made you giddy to think he was looking over here and if you begged Ashley to trade seats with you it was no one else's business. She obviously refused and you spent the rest of your time focusing on your friend, with Hugh sitting in the corner of your mind.

When you got back to the hotel, you immediately stripped yourself from your heels and dress. Laying in the bed in nothing but your undergarments, you opened instagram and took a look at your story one more time, wanting to see just how good you looked. It was shallow for sure but it made you feel good. You saw the hearts flooding the bottom of the screen and decided to swipe up to see who had liked it. As you scrolled nothing really caught your attention until that name caught your eye again.

“I recognized your dress and wanted to come say hi.”

What the actual fuck.

thank you for reading <3

part three

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre

I think I got everyone tagged that asked to be! If you want to be added/removed let me know. <3

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x popstar!reader #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x female reader #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman fandom #CYG #Controversially Young Girlfriend #popstar!reader

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pathologicalreid · 7 months ago

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hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #margot's requests #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds hurt/comfort

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jakedoxxenvasion · 8 months ago

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dr.lee

fellow doctor heeseung! × resident doctor y/n!

warning: MDNI!, unprotective sex (whops) kissing and more?

not in a million years you would think you will do something like this, with someone that you adore so much.. someone that you look up to as a senior to you, someone that you met everyday and formally call him by his surname instead of..

"h-heeseung!"your sinful lips moaning for his name, "sshhh, you want them to hear you?"immediately you bite your bottom lips once getting that warn from him, he peck your lips and smile. "didn't expect you to be so obedient to me, love. such a good girl."you humming to everything he said to you, trying to not moan out his name.

you know what you did is wrong because you're just a doctor resident and he's your senior doctor, it's totally wrong but you couldn't stop him. not that you can't but you don't want to, having him pounding his cock so deep into you in the small store room in the middle of your night shift, the clock strike 3 in the morning as much as you remember when he call for you to help him earlier.

it's all start with you helping him with sorting out papers, and files of patients records and ending up finding yourself here in this room with him doing things that you could ever imagine in your right mind. "just a little more, does it hurt you, hm?"you shake your head, no he doesn't hurt you but the pleasure is too much.

heeseung smile when he kiss your lips, hips still rutting into you. he could feel your wall hugging him tight at each thrust he make, sending him over the cloud but he know that he cannot be loud. "s-shit, you're so fucking tight, love."he let out a low groan, watching how you try to control your own voices and somehow he like the way you did.

liking the idea of doing this in secret, liking the idea that there's an outside world that you try so hard it keep it out, not wanting people to find out about what the two of you did in this room. "fuck- heeseung i'm close ah-"he shut you up with his lips, kissing you so deep, cock still pounding in and out of you.

your fingers tangle with his hair, he push you against the wall, "cum for me, love."he whisper those once he pull away from the kiss, like a cue you could feel the feeling at the pit of your stomach rushing down. heeseung smile, letting you rode out all your orgasm with you weakly leaning on his shoulder, doesn't have much energy left in you.

he thrust into you once.. twice then he pull out from you, only to shot his loads on your stomach. "oh fuck."you watch those thick white liquid spurting out from his cock, messily on your skin. somehow, heeseung has those proud smile after everything that he had done with you. you look at him and he smirk, he peck your lips before he slowly put you down to make you stand on the ground.

"so fucking perfect, love."he caressed your cheek softly then continue to kiss your lips again. when he pull away, he stare into your eyes, "doctor.."your soft voice call for him, which make him chuckle. "that was not what you called me earlier, ms.y/n."your cheeks immediately turn red as his remarks, he continue to caressed your cheek as he stare into your eyes.

but then heeseung take a few step back, you watch him grab a box of tissue at the top shelf behind him and he rip it open before he help you clean up and get dress again. "so.. do i pretend like nothing happen earlier or-" "unless you want more, you can always come to my office, love."he interrupt your words then wink at you, blush immediately creep up your face.

you slowly nod your head, he pat your head then he open the door after grabbing a random file on the shelf. "later, make sure you keep everything in place again, okay? ms.y/n."he said, know it very well he did that on purpose, you follow him from behind after you fix your white coat. "sure, dr."

heeseung turn to look at you just to give you a wink before he walk away.

should i write a longer version of this? cause i kind of like the plot lol

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung

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lostfracturess · 5 months ago

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─── games and matches | ch. 01

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 13.2 k (chapter 1/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference, alcohol use, drunk sex, unprotected sex, penetration, fingering, edging, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, underwear in your mouth lol, in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — idk what to say about this, was in the mood to write something dumb and fun, so don't dwell too much on the plot and just enjoy the vibes of this story haha. happy reading !! comments and reblogs are love <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Well well, look who it is."

Suddenly, the light flickered on.

You froze, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Heart racing, you spun around to find Satoru Gojo, your dad's best friend — no, scratch that, your dad's ridiculously hot best friend — leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

You stood there in the doorway, taking in the sight of him.

It had been years since you'd last seen him. You'd nearly forgotten about him — but not quite. He looked different now. Older.

Hotter.

"Quite the late night, huh?" he remarked.

His piercing gaze raked over your barely-there party dress, taking in the way the short, black fabric clung to your curves. You could only imagine how you looked — smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, and cheeks flushed.

It was well past three in the morning on a Wednesday, and you'd just stumbled home from a college party, the remnants of cheap tequila still swirling in your bloodstream.

The last thing you needed was a run-in with Satoru, especially when he looked so damn good in that black shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and a navy overshirt casually rolled up to his elbows.

Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

"Fuck, Satoru. You scared me," you whisper-hissed, your voice a bit hoarse. "What the hell are you doing here at this hour?”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. "I could ask you the same question, love. Don't you have classes in a few hours? Or did they start giving out degrees for partying these days?"

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of your heels and sighing in relief as your aching feet met the cool tiles. As you bent to arrange your shoes, your short dress rode up, the hem barely skimming the curve of your thighs.

"What does that concern you?"

"Because you're the daughter of my best friend, of course. Now, be a good girl and tell me where you've been."

You sighed. "I was at a college party, obviously.”

"You drunk?"

“No," you lied, even as the remnants of tequila still thrummed through your veins, making everything pleasantly hazy around the edges.

Satoru's gaze followed your every move as you walked past him to the sink in the kitchen. The room suddenly felt smaller with his presence, the air thick. You reached for a glass from the cabinet, the hem of your dress riding up even further, a sliver of skin flashing in the dim light.

"That's quite the outfit for a college party," he commented, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin.

You filled your glass with tap water. "It's a normal dress for a normal party. You're too old to know that. What, did they not have parties back in your day?"

"I'm not that much older than you."

"Yeah, like just a good 16 years or what?" you scoffed, taking a sip of water.

In the dim moonlight that spilled through the kitchen windows, you noticed the faint flush high on Satoru's cheekbones, the telltale glassiness in his normally sharp eyes. The subtle scent of bourbon clung to him.

He's drunk too, you realized with surprise.

You lifted your chin. "You're drunk."

"I'm not.”

"Oh really?" you challenged, setting your water glass down on the counter with a soft clink. "Prove it then. How many fingers am I holding up?"

You held up three fingers in front of his face. He squinted at your hand, before he reached out, his fingers warm as they wrapped around your wrist, tugging your hand down gently.

"That's not how you measure how drunk someone is. But I can assure you, I'm perfectly sober.” His gaze shifted down, resting on your chest. “Sober enough to see that dress of yours is way too low cut for a woman your age."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you suddenly became acutely aware of just how much cleavage you were showing. You tugged at the neckline of your dress, trying to adjust it higher, but the silky fabric simply slipped through your fingers.

"I'm grown up now, if you haven't noticed. And besides, it's not that low.”

"If you say so.” He shrugged out of his navy overshirt. “But just in case, why don't you put this on? Wouldn't want you catching a cold in that scrap of fabric you're calling a dress."

He held out his jacket to you, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"I'm not cold," you said, but even as the words left your mouth, a shiver ran through you. The kitchen tiles were cool beneath your bare feet, and the thin material of your dress did little to ward off the chill of the night air.

Satoru noticed, of course.

His smirk widened. "Sure you're not. But humor me, will you?"

You glared at him. Finally, you snatched the jacket from his outstretched hand. "Fine. But only because I don't want to listen to you nag."

You shrugged into the jacket, immediately engulfed by Satoru's scent — a heady mix of expensive cologne, cigarette smoke and something uniquely him. The sleeves fell past your fingertips, and the hem hit your mid-thigh, covering much more of you than your dress did. You had to admit, it felt nice.

Comforting, almost.

Satoru's gaze softened as he took in the sight of you drowning in his clothes. "There. Much better. Now you look less likely to give some poor teenage boy a heart attack."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He grinned. "Part of my charm, love, can't you remember?”

You rolled your eyes.

He hasn't changed a bit. Still the same old Satoru, with his quick wit and insufferable smirk. But damn if he didn't look good.

The years had been kind to him, that's for sure.

You hopped up onto the kitchen counter, the cool marble sending a shiver up your spine as it met your bare thighs. Satoru's jacket rode up as you settled, the soft fabric bunching around your waist, but you were far too focused on the man across from you to care.

Blame it on the alcohol.

You picked up your abandoned glass of water, taking a long, slow sip as you watched him lean back against the opposite counter, his long legs stretched out before him, arms crossed over his broad chest.

In the dim light filtering through the blinds, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle curve of his lips. God, he looked even better than you remembered him.

His gaze never left you, his eyes dark pools. His glance made you feel a strange warmth that spread through your body, a heat that had nothing to do with the tequila you'd consumed earlier.

But you pushed it away.

It was just the alcohol talking, you told yourself.

It had to be.

"So," you started. "You never did answer my question. What are you doing here at this hour?”

Satoru ran a hand through his tousled hair, the white locks falling back into place effortlessly. Damn him. "Well, your old man and I were out for drinks earlier. Celebrating closing a big case we've been working on."

You raised an eyebrow. "Dad doesn't usually stay out this late."

"No, he doesn't. Man's a total lightweight. Two bourbons in and he was ready to hit the karaoke stage".

You nearly choked on your water at the image. "Tell me you got that on video."

"Oh, you know it," Satoru grinned. "Blackmail material for a lifetime. But someone had to be the adult and get him home before he really made a fool of himself. Dropped him in bed right before you stumbled in, actually."

"My hero," you teased, taking another sip of water. "So, this big case, it was the Johnston trial, right? Dad mentioned it, said it was huge for your firm." You tilted your head, observing him. "You just here for the case, or are you sticking around?"

He shrugged, the movement casual, but you could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Initially just for the case, but I'll be around for a bit to wrap things up. It was a team effort, though. Everyone put in a lot of long hours."

"Look at you, being all humble. Dad said you led this one. Said you absolutely destroyed the other side in court. Had them in tears, from what I heard."

"Oh, did he now?" His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the praise.

"Mhmm," you hummed, leaning back on your hands, the marble counter cool against your palms. "Seems the press is calling you a legal genius or something, too.”

"Well, they're not wrong, are they? I am pretty damn brilliant."

You huffed out a laugh. "Careful, counselor. Keep winning cases like this and that ego of yours might just burst."

"Ah, but you'd be there to keep me humble, wouldn't you?"

"I don't think anyone could keep you humble, Satoru. Least of all me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He fixed you with his piercing blue eyes, the intensity making your breath catch in your throat. "I have a feeling you could bring me to my knees without even trying."

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

Damn him and his smooth lines.

Satoru's eyes were dark, smoldering as they bore into yours. You felt pinned beneath his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, your skin tingling with a strange sensation. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he broke the silence.

"So, how's tennis going? I heard you're quite the rising star on campus. Beating all the boys and making them cry, huh?"

You scoffed. "Did you really expect anything less from me?"

"Nah, I always knew you'd be dominating the court someday. You were born to be a champ."

"Oh, don't tell me you're a fan now," you said with a grin. "Want me to sign something for you before I get too famous and forget all about you?"

"Please, as if you could ever forget about me, love."

You tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. "That ego of yours is something else, isn't it? How do you even fit through doorways with a head that big?"

"Look who's talking. Your ego seems to be doing just fine too."

His lips curled into a smirk. He fixed you with his gaze, those piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through you, sending shivers down your spine. It was unnerving, his gaze — and undeniably thrilling.

For a moment you thought he was flirting with you. But that couldn't be right. The alcohol must be messing with your perception, making you read into things that weren't there.

Then, he spoke again. "How was the party?"

"Oh. It was...fine, I guess. Pretty lame, actually."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? And here I thought college parties were supposed to be the highlight of your young adult life."

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. "Maybe for some people. But getting drunk off of cheap beer and watching my classmates make fools of themselves isn't really my idea of a good time."

"No?" He tilted his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. "Then what is your idea of a good time?"

“I don't know. Something more exciting than a frat party, that's for sure."

"Exciting, huh?”

Satoru's eyes glinted with mischief as he pushed off the counter. He walked over to the liquor cabinet where your father kept his prized collection and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a bottle of top-shelf vodka.

"Well then," he drawled, grabbing two tumblers from the shelf above. "If the party was such a bust, why don't we make our own fun?"

He returned to you, placing the glasses on the counter beside your hip with a clink that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet of the kitchen.

"And that's your definition of fun?" you asked. “Having drinks with your best friend's daughter at three in the morning?"

"Ah, but you're not just any daughter, are you?" He uncapped the vodka and poured a generous amount into each glass. "And besides, I'm curious. Those college boys at the party, they don't do it for you?"

He handed you your glass, his gaze never leaving yours. You took it, swirling the clear liquid and watching it catch the light. "Not really. They're all so... immature. All talk and no substance."

"Is that why you don't have a boyfriend? Because no one's managed to capture your interest?"

You emptied your glass in one satisfying gulp, the vodka burning a pleasant trail down your throat. You reached for the bottle, but Satoru was faster, his hand already at the neck, refilling your glass before you could blink.

"I guess," you admitted, watching the crystal tumbler fill with clear liquid. “That, and I've been busy with college, obviously. Dating hasn't exactly been a priority.”

"Mmm, I call bullshit.” He placed the refilled glass in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "A woman like you, with your looks? You could have any man you wanted, studies be damned."

Oh god, you thought, your mind racing.

He's indeed flirting with you.

And you're flirting back.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous thrill that combined with the warmth of the alcohol was probably a bad thing.

Was this really happening?

Were you actually flirting with Satoru Gojo, the man your dad considered a brother?

But now, in the dim light of the kitchen, he was something else entirely. He looked good. Damn good. The kind of good that made your mind wander to places it definitely shouldn't.

And the way he was looking at you, the way his gaze kept drifting to your lips, the way he leaned in just a little too close — it was clear he no longer saw you as just his friend's little girl. No, the heat in his eyes told you he very much saw you as a woman now.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

"Maybe I'm just picky."

"Oh, really?" Satoru moved closer, until he stood beside you, his hip brushing against yours, his hands resting tantalizingly close to your thigh. "And what exactly are you looking for?"

You met his gaze boldly, emboldened by the alcohol thrumming through your veins. "I don’t know. Someone older. More experienced. Someone who knows what he's doing."

"Is that so?"

You hummed in response, setting your empty glass aside. "What about you, Satoru? Where's your girlfriend tonight? Or boyfriend, I don't judge."

"No girlfriend. No boyfriend either. I guess you could say I'm married to my work."

You raised an eyebrow, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass. "Really? The great Satoru Gojo, eternally single? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it, love," he said, setting his own glass down. His eyes, the color of a summer sky, never left yours. "I'm a busy man. Relationships take time and effort, two things I don't have in abundance."

"Sounds lonely.”

Saotru's lips quirked up at the corners. "Oh, believe me I’m far from lonely. Just unburdened by the messy attachments that come with a relationship."

"Ah. So you're a love 'em and leave 'em type, are you?"

"I prefer to think of it as knowing what I want and taking it.” He leaned in closer. You could smell the vodka on his breath, the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "No strings, no complications. Just fun."

“Why does that not surprise me.”

Satoru reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. "What can I say, love? I'm a simple man with simple needs."

Heat washed over you at his touch.

Oh god, he was definitely flirting with you.

And even worse, you were shamelessly flirting back.

But could you really be blamed? It had been years since you'd last seen him, and time had been more than kind to Satoru Gojo. He'd always been handsome, but now, with a few more years of wisdom and experience etched into his features, he was practically irresistible.

And let's be real, you were both a little drunk.

It was the perfect recipe for a little harmless flirting. Because that's all this was, right?

Harmless.

Just two adults engaging in a bit of playful banter, a bit of stolen glances and charged tension. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.

After all, he was your dad's best friend.

This was just the alcohol talking, just the thrill of seeing each other after so long. In the morning, you'd both laugh it off, chalk it up to a bit too much vodka and the nostalgia of reunion.

But even as you told yourself this, you couldn't ignore the way your heart raced at his proximity, the way your skin tingled under his gaze. Blame it on the alcohol, but the truth was, you were enjoying this.

It was exhilarating.

You scoffed, trying to regain your composure. "Oh, I'm sure your needs are anything but simple, counselor.”

"Mmm, you might be right about that. I've been told I can be quite... demanding."

"Does that line ever work on women?"

He smirked. "I can't complain. It's served me well enough so far."

Oh, he's so confident.

It made you wonder what it would take to throw him off his game.

"Is that so?” You sat up straighter, a coy smile playing about your lips. "In that case, why don't we play a little game? See if that silver tongue of yours is as clever as you think it is."

His eyebrows shot up. “What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, just a classic. Truth or Dare. Unless of course, the great Satoru Gojo is afraid of a little challenge?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, his smirk sharpening into something more predatory. "Oh, love. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

You leaned in closer. "Then why don't you enlighten me, counselor?"

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you. But then he pulled back, his smirk widening. "Alright. You're on. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Bring it on. I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh, we'll see about that.” He picked up the vodka bottle, refilling both your glasses with a practiced hand. He handed one to you, clinking his against it. "Ladies first. Truth or Dare?"

You took a sip of your drink, the vodka rushing pleasantly through your veins, making you bolder. "Dare."

He paused, his eyes glinting in the dim light. His gaze roamed over you with deliberate slowness, lingering on the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts beneath the fabric of his jacket. You could practically feel the heat of his gaze, branding you.

"Take off my jacket."

"That's it? That's your big dare?"

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm starting you off easy. Wouldn't want to scare you off too soon."

You scoffed, setting your glass down. "Please. It takes more than a little strip tease to scare me."

With deliberate slowness, you hooked your thumbs into the neckline of Satoru's overshirt, your fingers grazing the heated skin of your chest as you pulled the fabric apart. His eyes followed your every move, the blue irises darkening with each new inch of exposed skin.

You shrugged the overshirt off your shoulders, letting it pool around your elbows. The cool air of the kitchen kissed your exposed skin, causing your nipples to harden beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

"Your turn, counselor. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," he replied without hesitation, taking a long sip of his vodka.

You leaned back on your hands, the cool marble of the countertop a welcome contrast to the warmth spreading through your body. Tilting your head, you made a show of considering your options, drawing out the suspense.

"Take off your shirt."

His eyebrows shot up. "Didn't take you for the forward type, love."

You shrugged one shoulder. "What can I say? I appreciate a good view."

"Is that so? Well then, who am I to deny a woman what she wants?"

With equally deliberate slowness, he reached for the hem of his shirt, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to lift it inch by tantalizing inch. Your breath hitched in your throat as smooth, pale skin was revealed, stretched taut over toned muscles that rippled beneath his touch.

He pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes drank him in greedily, tracing the defined ridges of his abdomen, the broad expanse of his chest, the subtle play of light and shadow on his skin.

The waistband of his pants hung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of white curls trailing down from his navel.

God, he was gorgeous.

All lean, hard muscle and power.

"See something you like?" He asked, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You dragged your gaze up to his, your pulse pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the vodka. "I'm not blind. You're... easy on the eyes."

"Wow, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Why?" you challenged, tilting your head. "You’re craving my attention, Satoru?"

“That’s a question for a truth, isn’t it? Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said.

He tilted his head to the side as he considered you. "Did you make out with any guys at that party tonight?"

“Yes.”

“Did you fuck him?"

"Quite bold of you to ask your best friend's daughter that question.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. "What? It's a valid question. So, did you?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Almost."

"Almost?"

You held his gaze, as he watched you over the rim of his glass. "I don't know. One minute we were all over each other, and the next...I just wasn't feeling it anymore. It got boring."

Satoru threw back his head and laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "You really are the bane of every university boy's existence, aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It means, love, that you're a goddamn tease. Getting them all hot and bothered, then leaving them high and dry. It's almost cruel."

You scoffed, taking another sip of your drink. "It's not my fault they couldn't keep my interest.”

"Oh, I'm sure," he replied, taking a long, slow sip from his own glass.

You watched as his throat bobbed with each swallow, your eyes tracing the strong column of his neck down to the defined hollow of his collarbone. God, even the way he drank was hot. It was infuriating.

He set his glass down, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of vodka on his bottom lip. Your gaze followed the movement, heat curling in your stomach.

"Alright," he drawled. "Your turn. Truth or Dare?"

You lifted your chin, holding his gaze boldly. "Dare."

"Brave choice. I like it."

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, the pose showcasing his lean, muscular physique. Your mouth went dry as you took in the sight of his defined biceps flexing with the movement.

"Slip those straps of your dress off your shoulders.”

"Wow, Satoru. Why not just ask me to strip the whole dress off?"

"But where's the fun in that?" he countered, a wicked grin playing about his lips. "Besides, that's a job for me."

You hesitated for a second.

A small voice in the back of your head whispered that you were treading treacherous waters, that letting things go further with Satoru was a bad idea. But the alcohol flowing through your veins and the heat in his gaze silenced your better judgment.

It was just a bit of harmless fun, right?

No need to overthink it or make it into something it wasn't.

Slowly, you reached for the straps of your dress, sliding them down your shoulders, one after another. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as it fell, the neckline dipping precariously low, just barely concealing your hardened nipples beneath the lace edge of your bra that peeked out.

Satoru's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening as more and more of your skin was revealed. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against his biceps as he watched you, the air between you thick with tension.

You leaned forward slightly, your hands gripping the edge of the countertop, the cool marble a stark contrast to your overheated skin. You pressed your arms against your chest, pushing your cleavage together, the dress threatening to slip further with each heaving breath.

"See something you like?" you mirrored his words back to him.

Satoru huffed. He reached for his glass, bringing it to his lips and taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, he moved to stand right before you, placing the glass beside your thighs, each of his hands coming to rest on either side of you, caging you in.

“Truth or dare.”

"Truth," Satoru said, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Getting shy on me now, counselor?”

"Oh, trust me. There's nothing shy about me. But I don't think you can handle me fully stripped."

You scoffed, even as a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine, your skin prickling with goosebumps. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek, warm and intoxicating. "With good reason, love. I've never had a complaint."

Your pulse jumped, heat pooling low in your core, your thighs clenching. This was dangerous territory, toeing the line of no return. If you weren't careful, you'd end up doing something very, very stupid.

Like finding out first-hand if Satoru's claims were true.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity, the way your nipples tightened and your breathing grew shallow. "I thought we were playing Truth or Dare, not stroking your ego."

"Oh, we are. And I believe it's your turn to ask a question."

You bit your lip. "Why do you have the daughter of your best friend undressed in the middle of the night on a random Wednesday?"

His lips curved upward, his fingers flexing against the countertop on either side of your hips. "I don't know, maybe because she didn't get what she needed at the party."

"And what do I need?"

Satoru's eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before flicking back up to meet yours.

"I think you need someone who knows how to appreciate you, love. Someone who can make you feel things those fumbling college boys never could."

"And you think you're that someone, do you?"

"Oh, I know I am. I could make you feel so good, you'd forget your own name."

Shivers ran down your spine as want battled with reason. It would be so easy to give in, to let Satoru have his wicked way with you. But the rational part of your brain knew it was a terrible idea. Still, you couldn't help but lean into him.

"That's a bold claim," you managed, your voice breathier than you would have liked. "But I'm not sure I believe you."

"No? Then how about another dare, since you're feeling so brave?"

Your stomach flipped, nerves and anticipation tangling together. "What did you have in mind?"

His smile was slow, predatory. "I dare you to let me prove it to you."

"Prove what, exactly?"

He leaned in, until his lips were a hair's breadth from yours. "That I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

You inhaled shakily, your fingers curling tighter around the countertop edge. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"However you want me to, love. I could use my hands, my mouth, could touch you in places no one else ever has. Make you come so hard, you can do nothing but beg for more."

A shudder ran through you at the promise in his words, your core clenching with need. You could picture it all too clearly — Satoru's hands on your body, his fingers sliding over your skin, wandering lower and lower. His mouth hot and hungry on yours, trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, lower still—

You fought back a moan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure even as your body screamed for his touch. Reaching for your glass, you took a slow, deliberate sip of the vodka, holding his gaze as the liquid burned down your throat.

"Is that so?" you said. "And what makes you think I'd ever beg for you, counselor?"

"Oh, you'll beg. I'll make sure of that. I'll tease you until you're dripping wet and aching for me, until you can't think of anything but how badly you need me inside you. And then, when you're right on the edge, when you're so desperate you can barely breathe,” He leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing yours, “that's when I'll make you beg."

"You sound pretty confident. But I'm not sure you can back up all that big talk."

Satoru pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce, hungry intensity. "Oh, I can back it up, love. And then some."

His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your dress. "But the question is," he continued, his fingers tracing maddening patterns on your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing, "are you ready for me to prove it to you?"

"One dare?"

"One dare is all I need, love."

You shivered at his promise, heat rising deep in your core, your body aching for his touch. God, the things this man did to you—

But you wouldn’t give in that easily. After all, where was the fun in that?

Emboldened, you let the dress slip a bit lower, revealing more of the lacy edge of your bra. "As tempting as that sounds, counselor, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on that particular dare."

"Oh? And why's that?"

You shrugged one shoulder, aiming for nonchalant even as your heart raced in your chest. "Maybe I'm not ready for you to put your money where your mouth is. Maybe I want to savor the anticipation a little longer."

"Is that so? Well then, how about another truth instead? Since you seem so fond of them."

Nerves fluttered in your stomach, but you refused to back down. "Hit me."

Satoru leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath hot against your skin. "Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your brain short-circuiting as a wave of heat washed over you. Because the truth was—

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a knowing glint in their azure depths. "You have, haven't you? You've laid in bed at night, your hand between your thighs, picturing me doing all sorts of things to you."

You didn't need to confirm it, he could tell by the way you trembled as his lips trailed along the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

"Tell me, what was I doing to you?" He caressed the sensitive skin of your throat with his lips, drawing a gasp from your parted lips. "Was I kissing you? Touching you?"

"Yes," you panted, your fingers curling into his silky hair, holding him against you, all good reason vanishing into thin air.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of need skittering down your spine. "Did you come, love? Muffling those pretty moans in your pillow as you cum with my name falling from your lips?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your thighs clenching at the memory — the way you'd writhed against your sheets, your fingers stroking your slick heat, chasing the release that only thoughts of Satoru could bring you.

"Yes," you whispered. “Every single time."

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide, his breathing growing ragged. "Where did you imagine me touching you, love? Show me."

Heart pounding, you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his warm, calloused skin. Slowly, deliberately, you guided his hand to your neck, your breath hitching as his fingers skimmed over your racing pulse.

"Here," you whispered. "I imagined your lips on my neck, your teeth grazing my skin.”

Satoru's fingers tightened on your throat, a possessive gesture that made your core clench. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over your neck, his touch feather-light, teasing. You shivered as his breath ghosted over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

"Like this?" His lips traced a path of fire from your jaw to your collarbone, his teeth nipping gently at your skin. "Is this how you imagined it?"

“Yes,” you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just like that."

His tongue flicked out, tasting you, savoring you, as his lips mapped every inch of your neck, finding all the spots that made you shudder and moan.

"Where else?"

Biting your lip, you guided his hand lower, over the swell of your breasts, your nipples tightening beneath the thin fabric of your dress. "Here," you breathed, arching into his touch. "I pictured your hands cupping my breasts, your fingers teasing my nipples.”

Satoru groaned, his control slipping a notch.

His hand curved over your breast, molding to your shape, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a maddening caress. "Fuck, you feel perfect.”

He tugged at the neckline of your dress, exposing more of your chest to his gaze. Dipping his head, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, his tongue darting out to lick over your heated skin.

His lips trailed lower and lower until they hovered just above your nipple, his breath hot and damp against your sensitive skin. And then, he closed his lips around your nipple and sucked, hard, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

You cried out, your back arching into him, your fingers clutching at his bare shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

He caressed your breasts, licking and sucking and biting until you were writhing and whimpering. His fingers plucked at your other nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger until want coursed through your veins like molten lava.

"Keep going, love. Show me where else you want my hands."

Emboldened by his words, you slid his hand lower still, his lips still on your breasts, over your stomach, your muscles quivering beneath his touch.

Lower, lower, until his fingers were brushing the hem of your dress, dipping beneath the fabric to skim the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You shuddered as his fingers crept higher, teasing you, tormenting you with fleeting, feather-light touches.

"Here," you gasped, your thighs parting. "I touched myself here, imagining it was your hand between my legs, your fingers buried deep inside me, filling me, making me come.”

His fingers inched higher, skimming over your damp, lace-covered sex, making your moan softly. He rubbed slow, maddening circles over your cloth clit, the friction delicious but not nearly enough.

"You're so wet," he marveled, his fingers sliding under the edge of your underwear, gliding through your slick folds with a tortuous, leisurely stroke. "So hot and ready for me. Tell me, love, is this all for me? Do you get this worked up just from the thought of my hands on you?"

You whimpered as his fingers parted your folds, running lightly along your slit, barely grazing your aching clit. He was teasing you, exploring you with a maddening, light touch that set your nerves ablaze, making you part your legs wider for him.

"Yes," you gasped, your head thumping back against the cabinets as he circled your entrance with a single finger, dipping in just to the first knuckle before retreating. "Yes, Satoru, all for you. Only for you.”

He groaned at your admission, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fought for control. "Fuck, the things you say. You have no idea what you do to me, how badly I want to just bury myself inside you and fill you up so bad.”

But still, he held back, his fingers continuing their lazy, tortuous exploration of your slick heat. He gathered your wetness, spreading it up and over your clit, circling the swollen nub with a slippery, gliding pressure that made your thighs shake and your breath come in shallow pants.

"Satoru," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rolling shamelessly against his hand. "Quit your games. I need more, need you inside me."

He chuckled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth. "Patience, love," he chided, his fingers dipping back down to your entrance, swirling around the rim in mad, spiraling circles. "I want to savor this.”

He punctuated his words by pressing one long, thick finger inside you in one slow, smooth glide. Your back arched, biting your lips to swallow the scream that tore from your throat as your inner muscles clenched around his finger.

"Fuck, you feel incredible." He pumped his finger in and out of your clutching heat, curling it against your front wall. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, filling you in a way that was maddeningly good but still not enough. He scissored his fingers inside you, stroking your slick walls, teasing your most sensitive spots until you helplessly moaned into his mouth that hovered over yours.

"Look at you," he marveled, his eyes hot and heavy on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure that flickered across it. "So responsive, so desperate for my touch. I bet I could make you come just like this, couldn't I? Just with my fingers buried inside you, rubbing all the right spots until you soak my hand and scream my name."

"Yes, oh god, yes—more, Satoru. I need more, make me come.”

But instead of giving you what you so desperately craved, Satoru withdrew his fingers from your aching core, leaving you empty and bereft. You whimpered at the loss, your eyes flying open to meet his, a protest ready on your lips.

But the words died in your throat as you took in the wicked, hungry gleam in his gaze, the predatory curve of his lips. "Oh, I'll make you come, love. But where's the fun in doing it with just my fingers?"

Before you could even begin to process his words, he was sinking to his knees before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wide. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your lace-covered sex to his gaze.

With that, he dipped his head, his breath hot against your aching skin. He pressed soft and wet kisses to your inner thighs, his lips and tongue and teeth teasing you until you were squirming and whimpering above him.

"Satoru, please," you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to guide his mouth where you needed it most. "Stop teasing. I need your mouth on me. I need you to make me come."

"What, you begging now? I thought you said you didn't beg for anyone."

“Oh shut up and go to work already.”

"So impatient," he murmured, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth. "But I'm not done savoring you yet." With that, his mouth trailed up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your aching core with every kiss and nip and lick.

Your breath came in shallow pants, your hips grinding subtly against his face, seeking more contact, more friction.

When he finally reached your core, he didn't dive in like you expected. Instead, he placed a soft, almost reverent kiss to your sex, his lips lingering, savoring the heat and the dampness and the scent of you.

"Fuck, you're so perfect."

Then his tongue darted out and licked a broad stripe up your clothed sex.

You moaned, your thighs falling open even wider, offering yourself up to him. "Please, Satoru," you whispered. "Please, stop your stupid teasing and fuck me already. Please, Satoru, please, please—"

For a moment, he didn't respond, and you thought he might continue to torment you. But then he slowly pushed your underwear aside with his finger.

He placed soft, delicate kisses all over your sex, tracing your slit with the tip of his tongue, circling your entrance, flicking over your clit in feathery strokes that made you melt.

But it wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed him.

You arched into his face, your hands fisted in his hair, holding him against you. "More. Satoru, damn it, more, fuck me with your mouth, please, please.”

"Fuck, I love it when you beg.” With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, the fabric stretching taut as he began to pull them down. “I think you've earned a little reward."

His eyes never left yours, watching your reactions as he slowly undressed you. You gasped at the sudden exposure, the cool air of the kitchen kissing your heated flesh. He slid your lacy fabric down your legs, taking his time to savor the moment.

Once they were off, he straightened up again, and leaned into you.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

You hesitated for a moment, but something in his eyes told you there was no point in refusing. You parted your lips and allowed him to stuff the underwear into your mouth. The taste of your own arousal filled your senses.

"Be quiet for me, will you? We don't want to wake Suguru after all.”

Before you could even begin to think about how wrong this all was, Satoru was between your legs again, burying his face between your thighs and under your dress.

You cried out, muffled by the fabric in your mouth, as he licked a broad, flat stripe up your slit, from your entrance to your clit, the warm, wet rasp of his tongue making you squirm.

He did it again, and again, setting a slow but steady rhythm, his tongue parting your folds, delving deeper with each pass, until he was fucking into your entrance with his tongue.

Your back arched into him, your thighs clamping around his head, but he held you steady, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you spread open for his mouth.

"Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, the feeling so intense it bordered on too much. He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until you were shaking.

You whimpered around the fabric in your mouth that Satoru stuffed inside you to make sure that no one in the house could hear the sinful things he was doing to you as he worked you mercilessly, his tongue dancing over your clit, flicking and swirling and lashing, driving you higher and higher with every pass.

Satoru seemed to understand your body perfectly, reading your desperation in the arch of your spine, the clench of your thighs around his head, the needy, broken sounds that escaped around the fabric in your mouth.

"You want to come, don't you, love? You need it so badly, need my mouth to push you over the edge. But I'm not sure you've earned it yet. I think you can take a little more teasing, a little more torment. What do you think?"

You shook your head frantically, tears of frustration pricking the corners of your eyes. You couldn't take any more, you were sure of it. If he didn't let you come soon, you would surely lose your goddamn mind.

He pressed a soft, almost mocking kiss to your throbbing clit. "No? You don't think you can handle it? But you've been such a good girl, taken everything I've given you so beautifully. Surely you can hold on just a little longer for me."

You let your head fall back, teeth biting into the fabric, so you would keep quiet and just endure his torture. You would do anything, anything at all, if he would just have mercy on you, if he would just give you the release you so desperately craved.

Satoru seemed to sense your surrender. "That's my girl. Just a little longer, I promise. And then I'll make you feel so good.”

He suited actions to words, his mouth descending on you again, his tongue thrusting and swirling and lashing over your clit, driving you to new heights of pleasure with every skillful stroke.

You could feel your orgasm building, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs were shaking, your stomach clenching, your breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Without warning, he thrust two fingers into you, the sudden stretch burning. His fingers were thick, stretching you deliciously, and you could feel every ridge and callus on his skin. He began to move, thrusting his fingers in and out, hard and fast.

"Good girl, take me in, take me deep."

And then, with a final, bruising suck on your clit and a deft thrust of his fingers into your clenching heat, you felt your orgasm crashing over you, tearing a ragged, muffled scream from your throat.

You shook and shuddered and sobbed through the aftershocks, your inner muscles clamping down on Satoru's plunging fingers. He worked you through it, his mouth and hand gentling but never stopping, drawing out your pleasure until you felt you might die here and there.

"You really come easily, love. Makes me wonder what the college boys did wrong?”

You wanted to curse at him, but you could only whimper in response, your body feeling like it was made of jelly, your mind blissfully blank.

He pressed a final kiss to your clit before straightening up. Then he removed your underwear from your open mouth, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time, but not long enough for his lips to collide with yours.

And then you realized that you were kissing Satoru Gojo for the very first time in your life.

Because Satoru Gojo managed to make you come before he ever kissed you.

It was a deep, sensual kiss that stole what little breath you'd managed to regain. You could taste yourself on his tongue. Satoru moaned into your mouth, his hips grinding against yours, the hard, hot length of him pressing insistently against your thigh.

He reached for your hand and guided it downwards, encouraging you to touch him through the fabric of his pants. Even with the barrier of clothing, you could feel the heat of his hard length pulsing beneath your palm.

He was hard and thick, throbbing beneath your touch, and you couldn't help but wonder what he would feel like, skin against skin.

"Feel what you do to me.” He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your neck. "Feel how hard I am for you, how much I want you, how much I need to be inside you, need to feel you squeezing my cock."

"Then do it already." Your legs fall open in invitation, your hands clutching at his belt, urging him closer. "Fuck me, Satoru."

With trembling fingers, you fumbled with the button and zipper in your haste to remove the barriers between you. His hands joined yours, his eyes locked with yours as you worked together to remove his clothes.

You couldn't help but gasp as his cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect.

“Fuck.”

The head was flushed and glistening, evidence of his need for you. Your mouth went dry at the sight, a fresh flood of want coursing through your veins.

"Told you I never had any complaints.”

“Oh shut up.” You reached out to wrap your fingers around his length, marveling at the way he pulsed and throbbed in your grip. He was scorching hot and rock hard, and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you, stretching you, filling you, completing you.

Slowly, teasingly, you began to stroke him from base to tip and back again, your grip firm and sure.

He let out a low moan, his head falling back and his eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself to the feeling of your touch. His hands gripped your hips almost bruisingly, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“Is this payback now?”

"Why? Can't handle a little teasing, counselor?"

"You play a dangerous game, love. Because I will not stop until I've fucked you senseless, until I've ruined you for anyone else. You're mine now, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

You leaned in closer, your lips just a hairsbreadth from his, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest. "Then prove it. Ruin me for anyone else but you.”

Your hand stroked him faster, harder, your grip tightening around his throbbing length. You could feel him growing even harder in your palm, cum leaking from the tip and slicking your fingers, making the glide even smoother.

Satoru was panting now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he fought to maintain control. “You sure you’re up to this?”

"I dare you," you breathed against his lips.

Satoru didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat.

His hands left your hips to fist in your hair, pulling you close. His lips crashed against yours, firm and demanding, a claim and a conquest all in one.

He licked along the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance, and you granted it readily, your lips parting on a sigh of surrender. His tongue swept inside, tangling with yours. He explored every inch of your mouth, mapping the contours, savoring your unique flavor like a man starved.

He kissed you deeply, thoroughly, with a skill that left you weak and dizzy.

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders, his muscular back, before tightening in his hair. Your fingers played in his hair, scratching lightly over the short part at the back of his neck and tugging on the longer locks.

Satoru seemed to really like it, groaning into your mouth and pulling you even closer. His hips rocked against yours, the thick ridge of his cock pressing insistently into you.

"Satoru, please, take me already, need you inside me."

“Can you keep quiet for me, love?”

“Yes, yes. I can be so quiet, please Satoru.”

“Good, because we’ll have a problem if you can’t.”

Satoru's hands slid down from your hips to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he lifted you up from the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck as he held you close, never breaking the kiss. He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, navigating the familiar space.

This wasn't the first time he'd been here, after all.

When he reached the couch, Satoru threw you onto the plush cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, he was on you again, his big body covering yours, pinning you to the sofa.

He grasped your hands and forced them over your head, lacing your fingers together as he pinned you down, taking control in a way that had your breath hitch.

He started kissing and licking his way down your neck, finding all your favorite spots, the places that made you shiver and gasp, exploiting them ruthlessly. His free hand slid down your chest, over the curve of your breast, teasing your nipple.

"Fuck, Satoru. Feels so good,” you gasped, your head falling back as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck.

"God, why didn't we do this sooner?" Satoru groaned against your skin. "Think of all the nights we could've spent together, all the time we could've spent fucking each other's brains out."

"Because you were busy being a lawyer overseas, and I was stuck in college."

"Trust me, love, I would've made it work, would've moved back here, and have you bent over the desk in my office, not giving a damn who heard. Would've driven to your college every weekend, just to bury myself in you and make you scream."

His words had you throbbing with need. You could practically feel it — the hard wood of his desk against your skin, the scratchy sheets of your dorm bed underneath you as he pounded into you.

Satoru started grinding against you, rubbing his hard cock right where you needed it most.

"I could've sucked you off under your desk while you worked," you panted. "Wrapped my lips around your dick and swallowed you down until you couldn't think straight."

"Fuck, and I would've eaten you out in return, snuck into your room and buried my face between your thighs until you forgot your own name."

The thought alone had your core clenching desperately around nothing. You needed his skin on yours like yesterday.

Satoru must've read your mind, because suddenly he grasped the hem of your dress and yanked it up and over your head, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. You were left in only your lacy bra, your skin flushed and heated.

"You're fucking stunning.” His eyes raked over your body as if he wanted to devour you whole. Like he couldn't quite believe you were real, that you were here, that you were his. "I'm the luckiest man alive, getting to see you like this, getting to touch you like this."

He released your wrists, but you kept them obediently above your head, gripping the armrest like a lifeline. His hands roamed all over your hips and thighs, knees pushing your legs apart until you were spread wide open for him.

Satoru reached between your bodies, rubbing the tip of his dick against your dripping core. You could feel him sliding through your wetness, teasing your clit with every stroke, making you whimper and squirm with how badly you needed him inside you.

But he didn't push inside. Instead, he just rubbed himself against you, teasing your clit with every pass.

"Satoru, please," you said, trying to arch your hips, to get him to slip inside. But he held you down, his grip on your hip too strong to fight.

"Please what, love? Use your words.”

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with your desperation. But fuck it, you were too desperate to care about your pride right now. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me, need to feel you inside me. Please, please just fuck me already."

He cursed under his breath, his hips pressing against yours, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. But still, he didn't give in.

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the needy sounds that wanted to spill out. "Satoru, I'm fucking begging you here. I need you. Please, I'll do anything, just give me your stupid dick already."

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he gritted out, his control finally snapping. And then, with one hard, deep thrust, he was balls-deep inside you, stretching you out so good it made your eyes roll back.

You bit down hard on your lip to keep from screaming, your back arching off the couch, your nails digging into the armrest. He felt fucking huge like this, so thick and hard and perfect, hitting spots you didn't even know could feel this good.

"You're so tight." His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he tried to keep it together. "So fucking perfect. Like you were made for me."

"Satoru," you whined breathlessly. "You're so big, fuck, I feel you everywhere."

He let out a strained chuckle. "Can't help it if those college boys you fucked before had pathetically small dicks. Guess you just needed a real man to show you what's what, huh?"

“Oh, shut up.”

Then, without warning, he slammed back in, burying himself to the root in one brutal stroke. He didn't give you a chance to adjust, didn't let you catch your breath. He simply took you, hard and fast and deep, claiming what was his.

He grabbed your legs and threw them over his elbows, spreading you even wider, opening you up completely for him before he pounded into you, his cock hitting deep with every thrust.

When you opened your mouth to moan or scream or fucking something, he clamped his hand over it, muffling the noise. "Shh. What'd I say? Quiet, love."

You could feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy, as he fucked into you harder and faster. Your muffled cries were barely audible under his palm, making everything feel even more desperate.

You could hear skin slapping on skin, the wet noises of his cock pounding into your soaked core, the smothered gasps and whimpers spilling from your covered mouth. You could feel every inch of him as he moved inside you, the feeling almost too much to take.

Each thrust was harder than the last, his hips slamming into yours so hard it made the couch shake. He was relentless, his pace brutal, as he took you, claimed you, made you his fucking property.

You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, ready to snap at any second.

Suddenly, Satoru shifted your positions, his strong hands gripping your hips as he rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You found yourself straddling his waist, your hands splayed across his bare chest for balance.

"Ride me, love. Take what you need."

You rolled your hips in a slow grind, savoring the feeling of him deep inside you. His head fell back against the pillow, quiet moans rumbling in his chest as you took him inch by inch.

Encouraged by his response, you picked up the pace, rising and falling on his hard length, taking him deeper with each downward thrust.

"That's it, love." Satoru's hands tightened on your hips, helping you keep a steady rhythm. "Ride me just like that."

One of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You gasped at the feeling, your back arching, pushing your chest further into his touch.

Satoru's other hand slid behind his head, propping himself up a bit so he could watch you better. "Fuck, you look so hot like this. My perfect girl.”

You braced your hands on his sweat-slicked chest for leverage, your nails digging into his skin. His hips started to rise to meet your downward thrusts, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every pass.

"Fuck, just like that. You feel so good. So tight and perfect around me. You're gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

"Satoru," you panted, your head falling back, your spine arching as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core. "I'm close. I’m so close—"

But just as you were about to come, Satoru suddenly sat up, his arms wrapping around your waist, his chest pressing against yours. The change in position drove him even deeper, making you cry out and your nails raking down his back.

His mouth found your neck, sucking and biting, leaving hickeys you'd definitely have to cover up tomorrow.

"God, you’re doing so good."

You could tell Satoru was right on the edge with you, his groans turning harsh and throaty, his fingers digging bruisingly into your hips, his movements growing erratic and desperate beneath you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strained and breathless. "You're gonna make me fucking come.”

With that, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he yanked you up onto your hands and knees. He pushed your legs apart with his knees, settling behind you.

You could feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against you before slowly, inch by torturous inch, Satoru pushed forward, sinking into you until he was buried to the hilt. He started to move then, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a punishing pace that had the couch shaking and creaking beneath you.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he railed you from behind, hitting even deeper than before.

"Satoru," you gasped, your hands fisting in the cushions, your back arching as he pounded against your cervix again and again. "Oh fuck, yes. Just like that. Don't stop."

His hand slid up your spine to fist in your hair, yanking your head back and bending your spine into a deeper arch. You cried out at the sudden stretch, the change in angle making him hit new spots inside you.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed your face down into the couch cushions.

"What'd I say? You gotta keep quiet or I'm gonna have to shut you up myself.”

A shiver raced down your spine at his words, his grip on your hair in the back of your head keeping you pinned in place. You could only moan into the plush cushion beneath you, slowly soaking it with your spit as you whimpered and panted with each deep, brutal thrust.

Satoru's thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic as he chased his release. His hand in your hair tightened, the sting pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Satoru suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up against his chest, changing the angle yet again.

His thrusts slowed, becoming deep and deliberate. He held you close, one arm around your waist, the other hand splayed across your throat, keeping your head tilted back against his shoulder.

"Tell me, did those frat boys ever make you feel this good?" he panted in your ear, his hips rolling into yours in a slow grind. "Did they ever take the time to fuck you the way you deserve?"

You whimpered, your inner muscles tensing around his thick length as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "No." Your hands came up to grip his forearm, your nails digging into his skin. "Never like this. They never fucked me half as good as you do."

He hummed, his teeth grazing the side of your neck. "That's a damn shame," he mused, his hips keeping up that slow, deep rhythm that drove you mad. "'Cause you deserve to be fucked right."

As if to prove his point, he thrust into you even deeper. You cried out, your back arching, your nails leaving crescent moons on his arm. His arm tightened around your waist, the other hand reached up. His fingers brushed over your parted lips, feeling the panting breaths escaping you.

"Open up," he commanded.

Obediently, you parted your lips, letting him slip two fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around them, sucking gently, tasting the salt of his skin.

"Fuck, love. Your mouth feels so good.”

You moaned around his fingers as they thrust shallowly in and out of your mouth. His hips picked up speed, slamming into you harder, faster, spurred on by the muffled sounds you were making.

He pushed his fingers deeper, until they brushed the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, moaning around each thrust.

"Good girl," he praised, his thumb stroking your cheek, "taking my fingers so well, just like you take my cock."

Satoru's hips were pounding into you faster again. His arm around your waist held you steady as he thrust into you, hitting that spot inside you over and over until your eyes rolled back.

Then, his hand slipped between your thighs to find your aching clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub in tight, deliberate circles, the calluses on his fingertips creating the most maddening friction.

Suddenly, Satoru pushed you forward, your face shoving into the couch cushions again. He draped his body over yours, pressing you deeper into the plush fabric, his muscular arm stretching above your head to keep your head down, his hot breath panting against the nape of your neck.

"Gonna come," he gritted out, his hips moving faster, harder. "Fuck, I'm gonna come so fucking hard."

You could only whine in response, the sounds muffled against the cushion your face was pressed into. Above you, Satoru let out a string of curses, his hips stuttering and jerking erratically against your ass as his orgasm hit him.

He buried himself balls-deep inside you, grinding against your cervix as he pumped you full of his hot, thick cum.

"Fuck, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he babbled, his voice low and tight as he rode out his orgasm. "You take me so fucking good."

He shook and shuddered and cursed as he tried to catch his breath, his sweaty forehead pressed between your shoulder blades.

Slowly, he straightened up, your hips still raised in the air, and released his grip on your head, allowing you to turn your face to the side and suck in a desperate lungful of air.

But he didn't pull out. Instead, he started thrusting shallowly into your oversensitive core, his softening cock sliding through the sloppy mess he'd made of you. The wet, filthy sounds of it made your face flame, made your core clench weakly around him.

Then, to your shock, he pulled out completely, making you both wince at the sensitivity. But before you could ask what he was doing, you felt his fingers between your legs, spreading your swollen lips apart.

"Fuck, look at that. You’re so perfect. Prettiest cunt I've ever seen."

You whimpered as you felt his cum start to leak out of you, dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa — the family sofa to be exact. But Satoru didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed fucking pleased by it.

Then, you felt his tongue on you, lapping at your used sex.

He groaned as he tasted your combined arousal, the vibrations making you clench and shiver. His tongue dipped inside you, scooping out his own cum before licking a broad stripe up to your clit.

You gasped, your hand flying down to clamp over your mouth, stifling the desperate moan that wanted to escape.

"One more, love. One more for me. I wanna taste you coming on my tongue, wanna feel you come all over my face."

With that, his mouth sealed over your clit, as he started to suck in hard, rhythmic pulls, you knew you were done for. Your exhausted body had no defense against his ruthless onslaught, his tongue pushing you to the brink with embarrassing speed.

Your thighs started to shake, your abs quivering as the tension built and built, your core clenching around his tongue. Desperate moans spilled from your lips, muffled behind your hand as you tried to stay quiet.

But fuck, it was hard when he was eating you out like a starving man at his last meal.

"That's it, that's my girl," Satoru encouraged between licks and sucks, his stubble rasping against your inner thighs. "Gonna make you feel so good, love. Ruin you for all other fucking men.”

It was too much, too intense, too fucking good.

With a sharp cry that teetered on a scream, you shattered apart. Satoru fucked you through it with his tongue, drawing out your orgasm until you were boneless and shaking.

Finally, finally, he relented, pressing a few soft kisses to your twitching core before crawling up your body and collapsing next to you on the couch.

He gathered you close, smiling at your weak grumbles of protest as he manhandled you into the position he wanted — tucked against his chest, your face pressed into his sweat-damp neck.

"You're perfect, you know that? Like you were made just for me."

His hand drifted up and down your back in soothing strokes, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. The gentle touch made you sigh, your body sinking even deeper into his embrace.

For a long moment, you just laid there in comfortable silence, basking in the bone-deep satisfaction of being so thoroughly fucked by the man you at least expected to ever fuck in your life.

"You know, Suguru's gonna kill me when he finds out about this."

You sighed against his throat, your fingers absently tracing the defined ridges of his abs. "Mm, probably. He made you promise to keep your hands off me, after all.”

"Wait, you knew about that?"

"Mhmm, he mentioned it once. To be fair, he was pretty drunk at the time."

Satoru huffed, his hand drifting lower to palm the curve of your ass. "Guess I fucked that one up, huh?" he drawled, not sounding the least bit sorry.

"In more ways than one." You shifted in his arms, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him, your other hand coming up to stroke his stubbled jaw. "But seriously, this can't happen again, you know that right?"

Satoru leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment as he savored the feel of your fingers on his skin. "Yeah, I know. We just got a little carried away, that's all. Blame it on the alcohol."

You grinned, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb. "Mhmm. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was—"

His eyes opened, fixing you with a heated look that sent a shiver down your spine. "Fucking good?"

"Yeah" Your hand slid down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Real fuckking good. But still, we can't do this again."

Satoru's hand continued to run over your ass, his touch sending heat through your body even as you spoke of ending this. "Definitely can't happen again. It would be a mistake."

You nodded, even as you arched into his touch. "A big mistake. Dad would kill us both if he found out."

"He would," Satoru murmured, his other hand sliding up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. "And I value my life too much to risk it. Even if the temptation is—"

His gaze raked over you, hot and hungry.

"Hard to resist?" you finished for him.

"Impossible to resist," he corrected, his hand cupping your breast now, his thumb grazing over your nipple. "But we have to. This can't be more than a one-time thing."

You bit your lip, stifling a moan at his touch. "Right. One fun night, and then we go back to normal. Like it never happened."

"Exactly." But even as he said it, he was pulling you closer, his hips coming up to meet yours, his length, already hard again, pressing against your core.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. "Satoru—"

"One more time," he breathed, his lips brushing your ear. "One more time, and then we'll stop. We'll be good."

You knew you should say no, should put an end to this before it went any further. But god, the feel of him against you, inside you — it was addictive. You craved it, craved him, like nothing you'd ever known.

"One more time. And then never again."

"Never again," he echoed as he rolled you beneath him. His body covered yours, his mouth claiming your lips in a searing kiss before he buried himself deep inside you once more.

Little did you know, it wouldn't be the last "one more time" of the night.

Or the morning.

In fact, you lost count of how many times you and Satoru broke your "never again" promise before the sun finally rose.

Each time you thought you were finished, that you'd finally satisfied the hunger, one touch, one kiss, one whispered word would reignite the flames and you'd find yourself tangled up in him all over again.

Satoru was just that good. And you were just that far gone for him.

Heaven help you both.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Next day you woke up with a serious hangover.

No surprise there.

You stumbled down the stairs, your head pounding and your stomach churning with the aftereffects of last night's alcohol. And, let's be real, the aftereffects of Satoru's very thorough attentions too.

The memories of what you'd done, of how completely he'd wrecked you, made heat rush to your cheeks even as a pleasant soreness throbbed between your legs. God, you could still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your—

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Your dad's amused voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You blinked, focusing bleary eyes on where he sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other.

"Morning, Dad," you croaked, wincing at how wrecked your voice sounded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

You flushed, praying he'd think it was just the hangover and not the vivid flashbacks of Satoru pounding you into the couch. "Uh, yeah. Guess I partied a little too hard."

"I'll say." Your dad folded the paper and set it aside, standing up to grab a plate from the counter. "Made you some breakfast. Greasy eggs and bacon, perfect hangover cure. Eat up, then you can go sleep it off before your big tennis match later."

Right. Tennis.

You'd almost forgotten about the match in the wake of last night's activities. The idea of running around a court in the blazing sun made your head throb even harder.

"Thanks, Dad," you said, mustering up a smile as he set the plate in front of you. "You're the best."

"Mm-hmm. And don't you forget it." Your dad settled back into his chair, sipping his coffee as he watched you dig into your breakfast. "So, you ready for your big match today? Coach says you've got a real shot at taking the title this year."

You swallowed your mouthful of eggs, trying to muster some enthusiasm despite your pounding head and sore thighs. "Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about it. I mean, assuming I can get through the match without puking on the court."

"If you can party, you can play. No excuses."

"Wow, so inspirational. You should be a motivational speaker."

Your dad snorted. "I'm just here to keep you in line."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't quite suppress a smile. Your dad could be a real hardass sometimes, but he had a great sense of humor and a surprisingly laid-back attitude when it came to your occasional youthful indiscretions.

Perks of having a young, cool dad, you guessed.

"If I win today, maybe I should make this a pregame ritual," you said dryly, taking another bite of your breakfast. "Tequila shots and a good fu—" you caught yourself just in time, "fun. A fun night before every match."

"Good luck getting that one past your coach." Your dad shook his head, laughing. Then his gaze sharpened, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned forward to get a better look at you.

"Hey, what's that on your neck? Looks like a bruise or something. Did you get hurt last night?"

Your hand flew to your throat, your fingers pressing against the tender spots you knew were littered with Satoru's marks. Shit, you'd completely forgotten about the hickies in your hungover daze. You probably still smelled like sex and Satoru's cologne too, since you hadn't had a chance to shower yet.

Satoru was probably going to be insufferably smug about marking you up like this.

Bastard.

"Oh, uh, it's nothing. I must've just... bumped into something. You know how clumsy I get when I'm drunk."

Your dad's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he studied your neck more intently. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might call you on your obvious lie, might put two and two together and realize just what — or who — had left those marks on your skin.

But then he just shrugged, leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of his coffee. "Huh. Well, be more careful next time, yeah? Don't want you getting hurt."

You let out a subtle sigh of relief, your hand dropping from your neck. "Yeah, of course. I'll be more careful, promise."

"Good." Your dad nodded, seeming satisfied with your answer. "Oh, by the way, I invited Satoru to come watch your match today. Figured he could use a break from all those long hours at the office."

You choked on your bacon, your eyes going wide as you sputtered and coughed. "You—you what?"

"Invited Satoru. To your match," your dad repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "He's always been so supportive of your tennis career, you know? Thought it'd be cool for him to see you play in such a big match.”

Cool. Right.

More like hell, considering the man had spent half the night with his head between your thighs and the other half fucking your brains out.

The thought of facing him now, in broad daylight, with your father right there beside him — it made your stomach churn even harder than the hangover did.

"Oh. That's... great," you managed to croak out, your smile so strained it probably looked more like a grimace. "Thanks, Dad. That was really... thoughtful of you."

"Wasn't it?" He grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I knew you'd be happy to have another friendly face in the crowd, cheering you on."

Friendly face.

Jesus Christ.

If your dad had any idea just how friendly Satoru's face had gotten with certain parts of your anatomy last night—

You shuddered, trying to shove aside the vivid flashbacks that kept flooding your mind. Now was so not the time to be thinking about Satoru's tongue or his long fingers or his huge, perfect cock—

Fuck. You were so screwed. In every sense of the word.

How the hell were you supposed to focus on your match, on winning the title, when all you could think about was Satoru's hands on your skin, his breath in your ear, his body moving over and in and around yours?

How were you supposed to look him in the eye, knowing what you'd done, what you'd let him do, how completely you'd surrendered to him in every possible way?

And how were you supposed to do it all with your dad right there, oblivious to the secret brewing between his daughter and his best friend?

You didn't know. You had no fucking clue.

All you knew was that this match, this day, this whole goddamn situation was shaping up to be one of the most awkward, uncomfortable, excruciatingly tense experiences of your life.

And considering you once drunkenly hit on your TA in front of your whole class, that was really saying something.

But what choice did you have?

You couldn't exactly tell your dad that Satoru couldn't come, that having him there would be way too distracting. Not without raising all sorts of questions.

You were just going to have to suck it up and act like last night never happened, like it hadn't changed every fucking thing between you and Satoru.

Easy, right?

God, you were so fucked.

next chapter ->

author's note: hii friends !! hope u enjoyed this silly little first chapter of my new series & it didn't come across as creepy, and if it did, just ignore it. it wasn't meant that way, of course.

anywayy, it will have three chapters in total and will be mostly smut, not gonna lie, but i really had fun writing it bc it's just pure tension, teasing and stupid conversations that i love to write haha. and also a ridiculously older satoru and a bold reader ?? i think that's my thing to write haha.

anyway, thank you all so much for reading !! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and i hope this fic brings a smile to your face (or preferably other emotions) whenever you read it. stay awesome, friends, and have a fabulous day !! <33

taglist is closed !! you can subscribe to this story on ao3 to make sure you never miss an update :))

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#games and matches #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfic #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo fanfiction #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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hyperfixatedbastard · 9 months ago

Text

how to get the First Man™ out of bed

Soft!Adam x GN!Reader

Turns out the 'First Man' himself is actually super clingy. And he is a big baby when it comes to getting up in the mornings. Good luck convincing him to get his ass outta bed!

Word Count: 1.1k

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, implied sexual content, withholding sex, kissing (it's still SFW!)

A/N: Here is the Adam x Reader fluff, finally! I didn't mean for this to have so much sex-adjacent content but I think that's just too integral to Adam's character lmao. It's still SFW though so it's fineee. I didn't mean for the 'withholding sex' part to be manipulative, it's all fun n' games here, so apologies if it comes across as too serious. (It was originally 'one week', not 'one day' - I changed it just in case lol)

Dividers

Beneath the douchebag exterior of the First Man™, Adam’s really just a big ol’ softie. Just deep, deep, deep down. It took a long time to find that part of him, but as his partner, you’re one of the only people that even knows this side of him exists.

One thing you really hadn’t expected from the man is how clingy he can get—it probably has something to do with the abandonment issues, but you’ve never tried to broach that subject. It’s currently early in the morning, and Adam doesn’t seem to plan on letting go of you anytime soon. You’re cuddled up with him in bed, his mask and robes absent as he sleeps. His wings are wrapped around you like a protective blanket. And now you have to try and convince his stubborn ass to get the fuck up. You’ve already been awake for about fifteen minutes, hoping your boyfriend will wake up on his own, but of course, that’s not going to happen.

Getting Adam out of bed is always a struggle. Despite the promotion of Heaven as the ‘perfect place’ with ‘no bad days,’ there’s still a schedule to abide by, and angels still need sleep. And Adam really hates those damn schedules, and loves his beauty sleep. There are a multitude of ways to try and get him out of bed, and every morning is a guessing game to see which one will work.

1. Be sweet and try to gently encourage him to get out of bed.

“Adam, babe,” you murmur softly, opting for a gentle approach this time around. You pat his arms where they’re wrapped securely around your waist—you would try to get a look at his face, but he’s spooning you from behind and giving you absolutely zero wiggle room. “You gotta get up, we have shit to do.”

“Mm…fuck off,” Adam grumbles, only tightening his hold on you and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck. Which was about what you expected.

2. Be a little assertive.

“Adam, c’mon,” you warn in an attempt to convince him to get the fuck up. “I’ve already given you an extra fifteen minutes.”

“Then gimme fifteen more,” he insists, his voice sounding almost whiny. His childishness would be adorable if you didn’t actually have shit to do today.

3. Be a little more assertive.

You sigh. It’s never easy with this asshole. “Adam.”

The angel in question makes a little ‘mmpf’ sound into your back.

“Get the fuck up.”

He doesn’t even respond this time—he just holds you tighter, his wings copying his arms and trapping you in his embrace.

4. Bribery.

Actually, fuck no. You refuse to bribe him again. He’s already gotten that out of you several times before, getting anything from sex to food to picking what movie you two watch that night (you’ve watched Die Hard three times this week alone)

No, this is a game you are not losing this time.

5. Threats.

“Okay, you’ve got three options,” you offer, your voice less stern than your last attempt but not as soft as your first. “One: you get up.”

Adam makes another noncommittal little grunt of acknowledgment.

“Two: you don’t get up, and Lute breaks into our apartment again to drag your ass out of bed.”

He lets out a sound that sounds kind of like a chuckle, but it’s muffled against the back of your neck, so it’s hard to tell. But he’s clearly not intimidated by the warning.

“Three: you don’t get up and we don’t fuck tonight.”

That gets him. He tenses up for a moment before scoffing in disbelief. “Yeah, right, like you could go a day without this dick.”

A smirk pulls at your lips. You’ve got him now. “Try me.”

Adam’s silent for nearly a full minute. He has a much higher libido than you, and he knows you’d be fine without sex for a day. Him, on the other hand? He’s got a high sex drive and is downright spoiled.

You’re worried he’s fallen back asleep, but eventually, he sighs. His wings unfurl and his grip around you loosens, though not letting go entirely. “Fineee,” he groans dramatically. “But only because I don’t wanna deprive you of my amazing dick.”

You chuckle and turn to face him, now that you have the ability to actually move. His hair’s all messy, as it usually is, and his golden eyes are just barely cracked open.

“Oh, how generous of you,” you joke, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He instinctively pushes his face into your palm ever so slightly.

“I know, I’m fucking great,” he agrees, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows you were being sarcastic, but he’ll turn damn near anything into a compliment that strokes his ego.

You just roll your eyes at his response, albeit fondly. He’s a dumbass, but he’s your dumbass.

“Alright, you big baby, time to get up,” you tease, moving to sit up before his arms tighten around you once more, pulling you back down.

“Hey—” you start, but are immediately cut off by a pair of lips on yours. His lips move slowly and languidly along with yours, and you’re all too happy to reciprocate.

You sigh into the kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against Adam’s lips. There’s a big difference between your usual hungry, eager make-outs and the sweet, lazy kisses you get when he’s all soft and sleepy. Both are great, but you really savor these tender, gentle moments with him. In the mornings, he’s too tired to keep up that arrogant ‘too cool for all that mushy, affectionate shit’ persona. And while you love him all the time, sleepy Adam definitely holds a special place in your heart.

He’s smiling when he lets you pull away. The kiss wasn’t a particularly long one, but you could’ve let it go on forever. But you’d be one hell of a hypocrite if you stayed in bed just to kiss your boyfriend after making such a point to get his ass out of bed.

“Now are you ready to get up?” you ask softly, still basking in the warmth of his embrace and the memory of his lips on yours.

“Mm…” Adam hums in consideration. His smile quickly turns to a smirk as he tightens his hold on you yet again and wraps his wings around you. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Needless to say, you do not stay true to your word about the consequences of Adam not getting out of bed. And Lute does, in fact, break into your apartment half an hour later to be confronted with a sight she sees far too often for her liking.

Fuck him for being so damn stubborn. Literally.

Taglist - @3sire-777

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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aduh0308 · 1 month ago

Text

canines [kang taehyun]

kinktober 2024 !! summary: there's a cute quiet boy in your college class that's sweet to everyone, but there's something just slightly off about him. something that becomes very apparent when he insists begs you come over to study one specific night of the month. genre: college au, soulmate au, smut, p with little to no plot warnings: werewolf taehyun, dom!taehyun, sub!reader, perv!reader, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dacryphilia, sir kink, knotting, possessiveness, praise kink, he calls reader ‘pretty’, ‘darling’, ‘good girl’ and ‘bitch’ (once, I felt it was necessary), he’s got body hair lol, mentions of biting (no blood tho!) just for cam <3 word count: 3.7k 🎧 — sparks fly (taylor swift) + mmmh (kai) + mastermind (taylor swift) + red moon (kim wooseok) a/n— this is perhaps the worst thing I have ever written and posted so have fun (@beomsmiracles helped so much tho tysm <333) + happy bday to @bamtorin !!

Your legs tremble as they wrap around his waist. Bleary eyes struggling to stay open as your usually charming classmate’s cock practically tears you in half. In the pale night of the full moon, shining through the thin curtains of his bedroom, Taehyun looks almost inhuman. And as you catch a glimpse of his almost animalistically sharp teeth, you start to think that he might actually be.

Taehyun’s always been strange. But you thought you were crazy to think such a thing. Everyone else seemed to like him— they were drawn to him. He was kind, charming, smart, and most importantly, handsome. He was perfect. Too perfect. There had to be something seriously wrong with him. Something so sinister that he had to have everyone around him enchanted for his poison to not take effect. Or at least so you thought.

But your skepticism only seemed to draw him in further.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You slide into your seat right as your professor’s alarm rings. The tone signals the start of class— thank god you weren’t late. The morning had been hectic, traffic lining every lane of the highway on your drive. Maybe next year you should just room here instead.

The boy next to you shoots you a small smile as class begins. You know of him, you realize. Everyone does.

Kang Taehyun is a loner, but not in the usual sense of the word. He doesn’t have a set “friend group,” more he sits alone, talks to whoever is around him. You’ve heard nothing but nice things about him. How smart he is, how polite, how surprising it is that he doesn’t have more friends. Or a girlfriend.

They’ve said he doesn’t like to fall in love— he’s never been seen within less than a foot and a half of a woman the whole time he’s been at this university.

You can see what attracts people to him now. He holds himself with the kind of confidence that only comes from someone so sure of themselves that they don’t need the validation of those around them. It’s attractive, actually.

And so is he. You can’t help sneaking peeks towards him during the lecture. You’d have to borrow the notes from your friends because every word falling from your professors lips go in one ear and straight out the other while your eyes are on Taehyun. He’s got straight, black hair that falls to the end of his nose, and big brown eyes that send a sensation straight to your lower abdomen when he glances over at you. The way his t-shirt grips his biceps is a plus too, of course.

You have no idea how you’ve never noticed him before. Because fuck, now that you have, it’s like you can’t look away. It feels perverse, almost, the way your eyes rake up and down every inch of his body. But you can’t help it— it’s like you’re drawn to him.

He bends over to grab his water bottle, and the way his Adam’s Apple bobs up and down when he swallows has you pressing your thighs tight together. You’re so close together in the 3-person table that his arm brushes yours when he scribbles down a note on his lined paper. He was left-handed? Lucky for you, because that means whenever the both of you write something, your elbows touch.

Fuck, you feel like a thirteen year old again, giggly inside just from the simple touch of the opposite sex.

But you can’t help it! Something about Taehyun is magnetic and there must be metal in your eyes because if eyes could have sex, his would be pregnant.

You hope to catch a word with him before you both have to go, because a single two-hour period of time is not enough for you, at all.

At the end of class, when he stands, you stand too, so fast that your pencil case falls to the ground.

“Here, let me,” Taehyun mumbles, stooping to pick it up for you.

Your heart’s pounding so fast you can hear it in your ears. He extends his hand to give you back what you dropped, but you’re frozen, eyes flicking from his face to where his shirt clings to his frame at his chest.

His voice again snaps you out of your stupor. “Come on, darling. Eyes up here, I don’t have all day.”

If it were anyone else, every single one of those words would’ve sent you running. But from Taehyun, let’s be honest, you’d get on your knees in seconds if he asked in that tone.

“Sorry,” you whisper. Your fingers brush when you take your pencil case back, and Taehyun smiles at your flustered expression.

“You’re all good. I’m Taehyun, by the way.”

“I know.” Your eyes go wide. “Not in a stalker-y way! I’ve just.. heard of you. That’s all. I’m not a weirdo.”

Fuck, why’d you say that?? Now he must think you’re some sort of awkward, obsessed girl who can’t even have a normal conversation.

You’re in luck, however, because he laughs and leans his hip against the table. The two of you are alone in the room— everyone’s walked out and your professor is on her lunch break now— and his proximity is making your legs tremble.

“Got it. So, Miss Not-A-Weirdo, should I keep calling you that or..?”

You rush to introduce yourself.

“Alright then, y/n. See you tomorrow?”

His eyes are innocently wide, looking at you with a sparkle in them that is so endearing you have to break the eye contact. “Sounds good.”

You take one last look at him as the two of you part ways at the doorway. There’s something just slightly off about his appearance, and you can’t put your finger on it. He doesn’t look entirely human, if that makes sense. Maybe it’s only the way his sideburns reach to the end of his ear, but he just seems a little… wolfish? Or vampirish?

You’re making things up. He’s just got an interesting face, sharp incisors and all.

But he’s on your mind all the rest of the day, well into the night, and you’re surprised by the craving that your mind has developed for Taehyun.

Much to your surprise, the next day, he starts up a conversation with you. Just something small, about the work for the class, but the day after that he’s asking you to eat lunch with him.

“Are you being for real?” Your voice comes out like a squeak and you could punch yourself.

“Why would I be kidding?”

“I mean, I don’t know, you’re kind of famous for not sitting with people.”

The two of you are walking out to the courtyard, backpacks slung over your shoulders. When Taehyun stops you with a hand on your shoulder to point you in the direction of his lunch spot you can feel your heart speeding up.

“Over here.” He hops up onto a slab of concrete right next to the stairs. “Just because I don’t sit with friends doesn’t mean I don’t sit with people.”

He’s got you there.

“I guess. Anyways, how come you don’t have friends?” You realize you sound like a total bitch and rush to correct yourself. “I just mean, you seem like a nice person, how come no one bothers being friends with you?”

Taehyun gives you a small smile. “I don’t know. But I don’t necessarily mind, either. I like talking to different people. You hear such interesting things when you don’t bother yourself with the same people every day.”

That makes sense, you guess. “But you’d bother with me?”

The tips of his ears go pink. He doesn’t answer, only unwrapping a chocolate-chip cookie from its aluminum foil shell. “Cookie?”

His change of topic doesn’t go over your head, but you accept the offer. The sugary sweetness coats your tastebuds and you give him a thumbs up. “Thanks,” you say once you swallow.

“Of course,” he hums, and you slip into a soft, comfortable silence.

“You wanna come over to study sometime?” Taehyun asks a moment later.

Your eyes go wide. Hell yeah you do. Being alone with this fine-ass man? Yes please.

But, keeping it nonchalant, you simply say. “Sure. I’m having some trouble with what we’re working on now.”

“I can help with that.” Of course he can. “Do you want to come over Saturday night?”

You pull out your phone to check your calendar. “I’m supposed to go out with my friends that night.”

“Please?”

The tone of his voice has your stomach twisting. Pleading, almost, like it’d ruin his whole year if you didn’t come over.

You look down at your phone again, to where it says ‘date with the girls’. “I really shouldn’t…” But his eyes are on yours again when you look up, and you backtrack so fast you surprise yourself. “I’ll reschedule. Plus, there’s like ten of us, it’s not too bad if I’m not there.”

The grin Taehyun shines your way is absolutely dazzling, but, once again, the angle of his canines catch you off guard. They’re sharp, longer than his other teeth, and something seems weird about them.

You mentally shake off the feeling. You’re going to his fucking house. It’s time to celebrate, not think about the strangeness of his teeth.

You shoot a quick text to you and your friends’ group text thread, explaining that you have a “tutoring session” that night and will unfortunately have to miss your date. :(

A little bit of guilt curls itself in the pit of your stomach, but not enough to outweigh the pure excitement at the prospect of a few hours all alone with Taehyun. He gives you his address and apartment number, as well as his phone number, and you type the three into your phone with shaking fingers.

Saturday was only two days away, but it couldn’t have felt any further.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You knock twice on the door to Taehyun’s apartment. Goosebumps pelt every inch of your exposed skin while you wait for him to answer— it’s October and you forgot your jacket.

But you don’t have to wait long. You hear soft footsteps padding to the door and seconds later it’s opening and Taehyun’s wrapping an arm around you to pull you inside.

“You’re freezing, come in, let me get you a jacket…” He’s bustling around his apartment, which is a perfect reflection of the Taehyun you only know a little of.

It’s neat, organized, coffee-with-cream walls devoid of decoration, and there are shelves upon shelves of books lining the edges of the living room. And his room too, once you enter it.

The air is cozy, some sort of fuzzy intimacy presenting itself as you sit side-by-side with Taehyun in his bed, now wrapped in an oversized hoodie of his that fits you just how you like. You try and convince yourself that the unspoken emotions hanging themselves in the air are purely figments of your own imagination.

But when he opens his notes, clearing his throat to speak, there’s a choked twinge to his voice that lets you know in a second that, whatever it is, he feels it too. You can’t even let your bare skin touch his without getting all warm inside.

And the black tank top he’s got on is not helping at all.

“Here, this is what I got from what Professor Barns was saying.”

You have to lean yourself against his shoulder to read the tidy scrawl of his handwriting. “That makes sense, but how does it correlate to the reading? That was what I didn’t get.”

Taehyun’s explaining to you exactly what’s going on, but his heart doesn’t seem to be in it, and as the light of the full moon peaks in through his open window, your peripheral vision tells you something is happening to his face.

It’s almost as if he’s shifting a little bit— canines getting even sharper, the hair on his arms thickens, the muscles in his body seemingly filling out even more. You must be seeing things, that’s simply not possible.

But even as you think it, he turns to you, and the look on his face is purely predatory.

And an idea hits you, but it’s not possible, is it? That this boy right here is a fucking werewolf?

Not a werewolf in the typical way, not like Professor Lupin’s transformation in Harry Potter. No, it’s more subtle. If you hadn’t been paying so much attention to him, you wouldn’t even have noticed in the first place.

But the glint in his eyes is hungry. For you.

Taehyun’s on you in seconds, lips claiming yours, and you could nut at the feeling alone. Well, that’s a stretch, but his touch does set off something in you that settles itself under your skin and stays there.

“Fuck, I knew it..” He whispers, lips shiny from a mix of both his salvia and yours. “I knew it was you.”

You don’t even bother asking what he means, mainly because he doesn’t give you a second to, tugging your leggings down your thighs and throwing them onto the floor. Taehyun unbuckles his belt, and his jeans and shirt quickly make a pile with the rest of your clothes.

And fuck, is he a sight to behold above you. The lines of his body are statuesque, defined and absolutely perfect. You reach up to trace a slow hand down his torso. The contact of your skin on his makes the both of you shiver, and without warning, he’s pulling your thighs around his waist. You can feel him against your clit through both his boxers and your underwear.

“Let me fuck you, please, need to.” He’s breathless, pants painting the skin of your neck.

You can barely muster a nod, but thankfully, that’s all he needs.

Your undergarments are on the floor in seconds and Taehyun presses the head of his cock to your soaked cunt. Thank god you’re dripping, because he’s fucking into you without warning, hands on your hips dragging you farther down on his thick cock.

Your mouth is hung open in a perpetual silent scream as he fucks you so purely animalistic that you’re shaking, black spots overtaking your vision. You’re rendered senseless underneath him in seconds, dick filling you so good, it’s like you were made for him.

You must be on the same wavelength as him, because that’s what he’s mumbling in your ear over and over again. “Fucking built for me, knew it, could tell the moment you sat next to me, pretty body so warm next to me, of course it’s you.”

You move to touch him again, tears wetting your lashes as a pathetic whine wrenches itself from your throat, but he shakes his head. “Let me fuck you good, pretty, it’s my jab now.”

“Okay,” you whisper, breath knocked out of you at the repeated smack of his pelvis against your ass. He’s hoisted your legs up and over his shoulders in order to get closer to you, and the tears finally slip down your cheeks when he finds that perfect spot inside you.

“Okay, sir,” he mumbles, and your eyes blow out wide.

“Fuck, feels so good, sir.” Your voice is fucked already, you can hear it in your own ears.

His dick twitches deep inside you at the name. You can feel the warmth in his body as it seeps into you, like he’s laying himself under your skin. "ah— fuck, so fucking good around me, taking me so good, what a good girl..."

You flutter around him at his words and he lets out a low moan. It’s purely pornographic, erotic in the best way possible. You can barely breathe by this point, big cock practically rearranging your insides.

“Feel good, pretty?” Taehyun coos in your ear, fingers lacing with yours. You nod quickly, tears pooling on the pillowcase under your head. “Yes, sir,” you whisper, and he only smirks from above you.

“Good, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing, only wanna make my pretty mate feel good…”

Mate? Oh, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into.

Your question must show plainly on your face because he grins at you almost sadistically. “Don’t you realize? You’re supposed to be mine, it was written into existence by the moon herself. Can’t you feel it?”

You can.

The whole time, you’d been swearing you must be ovulating or something. Because the way you feel anytime you get close to Taehyun is not normal, in any way at all. It’s like there’s a burn under your skin that can only be satiated by the touch of his.

Taehyun smirks at your fucked expression. “Of course you can, I’m so glad it’s you, so fucking pretty under me. Gonna be mine forever, won’t you?”

You nod frantically, tears leaving paths all down your cheeks. “Wanted you since the first day of class, wanted you inside me, thank you, thank you so much.” Your voice is strained, barely above a whisper, but Taehyun can hear and it sets him off.

“T— too fast, fuck, Tae—ah— hyun, gonna cum, feel s’ good.”

God, the sight of you under him is the purest form of art he’s seen in his life. Eyes glossy, body limp, he’s left reddening bite marks up the line of your tits, up to your jaw. And oh, you feel perfect around him, gummy walls sucking him in like he belongs between your legs and should stay there all day long.

“Go ‘head, done so good, taking me like an angel.” Taehyun noses up your neck, sucking a mark onto the softness of your skin. Your scent is absolutely intoxicating to him, sweet and winding itself around him like a python around its prey.

Your whole body trembles against him as the ivy tendrils of pleasure wrap your form, coaxing quiet noises of pure ecstasy to fall from your tongue. His tip kisses your cervix with every movement, and little gasps of whimpers slip past the restraints of your parted, swollen lips.

Any word you try to get out is slurred, but Taehyun catches his name mixed in with strings of profanities that has him trying to settle the race of his heart.

“There we go, pretty, could cum at the sight of you liked this, fucked out on my cock, aren’t you?” You can’t even fathom responding, walls still convulsing around the girth of him. He grins down at you, sharp teeth on display, hips losing their perfection as he nears his own high.

“Gonna knot you, pretty little bitch, gon’ be all full with my pups, make you a mommy, how’d you like that?”

His voice is a growl and sends a shiver down your back, straight to your cunt. You can only nod, mumbling something about how you need him, want him to fill you up so perfectly.

It almost feels like he’s getting bigger inside you, the base of his dick swelling before his cum meets your fluttering walls. You’re sure it makes its way to your womb, but you couldn’t care less. The only thing that even crosses your mind is the fact that he’s trembling above you, dick twitching inside you while he still fucks into you relentlessly.

“Fuck, can’t take it, pussy taking me so good, so perfect,” he exhales, collapsing on top of you. Taehyun’s forearms shake while he tries to hold himself up, and you lay a gentle hand on the smooth skin of his shoulder.

You want to say something. You really, really do. But your brain is so fuzzy that you can’t string two words together mentally.

Luckily, it seems that even in this feral, half-animal state, he can understand the things you’re trying to convey. He lays himself next to you, and you give him a single smile before you’re out cold.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You wake up beside a very normal-looking Taehyun, a headache pounding at your temples. If it weren’t for the fact that your inner thighs are white and sticky from his cum, you’d think that you’d made up the whole thing.

You take a moment to just look at him. That’s funny, simply because that’s what you’d been doing for every day of class the past week.

But something about him looks different, now that he’s next to you, shoulders peeking out from under his grey comforter. His face is relaxed, jaw slack and the tips of his sharp incisors visible past the pink of his lips. He looks comfortable, off-guard, none of the “loner” facade from before.

“Can feel you staring,” he mumbles.

Your cheeks go hot and your gaze drops when his eyes open. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right, darling, I’d do the same.” Taehyun sits up in bed and you could curse at the small hitch in your breath when the blanket falls to his waist. His body must’ve been designed by the gods, because holy fuck, it was insane. Big arms with veins curling around the girth of his forearms, defined pecs that made you want to take a bite, and abs like fucking Hawaiian bread rolls.

You have no idea how you hadn’t noticed last night.

He’s smirking at you when you finally look back at his face, and the smirk tugging his lips causes something to twist inside you. That, combined with the sparkle of his eyes on yours, is enough to have your heart pounding in your throat.

“I got so lucky, with you as my mate, so pretty.” Taehyun leans his face in his hands, cheeks pink, like he’s embarrassed himself by his own sudden declaration.

You don’t say anything— there are too many things rattling around in your brain. But you do press your lips to him, so gentle he makes up for your tentative action by kissing you back, hands cradling your face.

It’s like this kiss makes up for everything the night before didn’t include. Intimacy on another level, a warm feeling rising up your neck. Being in his arms feels right, like you belong there. His lips are soft, searching almost, prodding against yours with such certainty that you’re trembling against his strong form.

And something about the way he looks at you when you finally pull away from him has you pulling him down onto you again.

The corner of Taehyun’s lips twitch up into the ghost of a smirk, arms on either side of you.

“Let me make love to you this time, won’t you, pretty?”

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