#kid-friendly purses

[mekyrdesign]

Introducing the Neon 90s Diaper Backpack, the ultimate blend of style and functionality for modern parents. This vibrant backpack features a playful, retro design that pays homage to the bold colors of the 90s. With multiple pockets and spacious compartments, the Neon 90s Diaper Backpack ensures you have easy access to all your baby essentials while keeping your hands free. Embrace nostalgia and practicality with the Neon 90s Diaper Backpack, where fashion meets convenience!

[buffyatyourservice]

Totally not biased at all, but I don't get why Buffy was cut. Ashley was a smoker which may not be something youd want to promote to kids(although i dont think alcohol is much better personally) but Buffy was just a buffet car ! theres not one thing inherently wrong with her, but she still got cut. its the same with Purse too, he didnt have anything controversial with his character as far as i know

[flwrkid14]

Bruce shares custody of Tim with Harley Quinn

Yeah, you read that right. Gotham’s broodiest billionaire vigilante and the queen of chaotic energy are co-parenting Tim Drake. And, somehow, that’s not even the weirdest thing that's happened to the bats this year.

Why? Two words: Joker Junior.

The details are locked down tighter than the Batcave, but here’s what everyone knows (or guesses): Joker broke Tim in ways none of them can fathom. He didn’t just try to kill him—he tried to make Tim like him. And while Tim clawed his way back from the brink, he didn’t do it alone. Harley was there.

She was part of the nightmare. And then, unexpectedly, she was part of the healing. She stepped in, helped Tim survive when Joker was doing his worst. When it was all over, when Joker was (temporarily) gone, she didn’t vanish into Gotham’s chaos. She stayed.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, Tim started calling her “Mom.”

And Bruce didn’t stop him.

Cue the Batfamily losing their collective minds.

Dick is pacing the Batcave, gesturing wildly. “Bruce, this is Harley Quinn we’re talking about! You don’t just co-parent with a rogue! There are laws against this! Or, like, there should be!”

Jason is sitting on the Batmobile, arms crossed, voice dripping with disbelief. “She’s literally a former rogue. She tried to kill you! Like, more than once. This is insane, even for you.”

Steph is perched on the edge of a desk, trying (and failing) not to laugh. “Okay, but, like, can you blame Tim? Harley does make amazing pancakes. Better than Alfred’s, honestly—”

A scandalized gasp echoes from the other side of the room.

Cass just watches quietly, her head tilted, but there’s a small, knowing smile on her face. She gets it. She’s seen the way Tim softens around Harley, how he relaxes in a way he doesn’t around anyone else.

Damian glares at Bruce like he’s lost his last shred of common sense. “Father, you have truly surpassed yourself. Allowing that woman into the sanctity of our home—”

Duke raises a hand cautiously. “Okay, but can we at least talk about how Tim basically has diplomatic immunity now? No rogue in Gotham is gonna mess with him. He’s Harley’s kid!”

And it’s true. Between Harley’s reputation and Poison Ivy stepping in as Tim’s unofficial stepmom (because of course she and Harley got back together), the rogues have adopted a weird kind of reverence for him. Tim’s no longer just a bat to them—he’s Harley’s kid.

Picture this: Tim’s out on patrol, and Riddler has the gall to interrupt with a riddle—only to end it with, “You’re sharper than I thought, kid. Guess Harley taught you well, huh?” before disappearing into the night.

Harley’s brand of parenting is chaotic but deeply personal. She knows Tim’s tells, the way his hands shake when he’s overwhelmed or the too-quiet moments when he’s retreating into himself. She’s the one who sits cross-legged on the floor with him, working on puzzles and cracking jokes until the tension lifts.

She carries extra band-aids in her purse because “Ya never know when a fight with some thug is gonna leave ya with a paper cut!” She also leaves sticky notes on his projects with scribbled messages like “You’re a genius, baby boy!” or “Don’t forget snacks!” They’re goofy, sure, but they make Tim smile when he needs it most. She keeps a stash of snacks in the Manor because Tim forgets to eat when he’s working. She shows up with pancakes at 3 a.m., douses everything in syrup, and calls him “baby boy” in that soft tone that makes Tim feel… safe.

Even Harley’s chaos has an odd kind of comfort to it. She’ll burst into the Manor unannounced, dragging Tim into impromptu “self-care parties” with face masks, bad rom-coms, and every flavor of ice cream imaginable. Somehow, it works.

Ivy, on the other hand, balances Harley’s energy with her own structured nurturing. She insists on “proper nutrition” and occasionally sends Tim home with meal prep containers filled with organic, eco-friendly food labeled things like “Stress-Busting Smoothie” or “Brain-Boosting Soup.” If Bruce raises an eyebrow at it, Ivy simply reminds him that “The human body can only fight crime properly with the right fuel, Bats.”

One time, she cornered Bruce in the greenhouse, pointing an accusatory finger. “If you send Tim out on patrol without a proper meal or at least six hours of sleep, I swear, Bruce, your rose garden is compost.”

And while Harley is the queen of hugs and chaos, Ivy is the one who sits with Tim on the porch at night, talking softly about resilience and regrowth, using plant metaphors Tim pretends not to understand but secretly finds comforting. Once, after a particularly bad night, she gifted him a small cactus with a note: “Even when it feels like the world is trying to tear you apart, you’re stronger than you think. Also, low maintenance, like you.”

Bruce knows the family doesn’t fully understand. But as he watches Harley teaching Tim how to make lasagna one night, the two of them laughing as the kitchen turns into a war zone of flour and tomato sauce, he doesn’t regret it.

Sometimes family doesn’t look like you think it will. Sometimes it’s stitched together from the most unexpected pieces.

And sometimes, it’s an ex-rogue, a traumatized teen, and a brooding billionaire all trying to figure out how to keep the lasagna from burning.

Welcome to Gotham.

[majinbangus]

happy birthday little simon

"You're inviting me to the lad's birthday?"

At this point in time, he kind of expects to get a knock on his door more times in a week than he ever did during the entire duration he's lived in this flat. Most weekdays- when you leave for work and drop off your lad at school- the boy likes to make a quick stop to say good morning. It's become somewhat of a routine. Sometimes it's a sleepy greeting, but little Simon is a cheerful child who has taken an odd liking to him, and vice versa.

"If you can make it."

Then there's you. The sunny child's mother. An easy presence to be in. Refreshing like the ocean breeze during a calm day. Something addictive he can't get enough of.

"When is it?"

This is new. You switched up the routine by coming a second time at midday after he returned from the gym, freshly showered. You faired better when he opened the door compared to that one time. Granted, he was fully dressed, but it was a little disappointing; however, you did have a reason for visiting.

He could tell by the tension surrounding your eyes. Focused like you were on a mission. He supposes you technically are on one. Inviting Simon to your boy's birthday.

"Saturday."

He furrows his brows. "This Saturday?"

"Yes."

"That's tomorrow."

"I know it's a bit last minute, but..." You sigh, running a frustrated hand over your face, frowning at the ground. "No one RSVP'd."

"No one?" Simon nearly growls, offended on the lad's behalf. "What about his friends? The little fuckers don't want to come?

You purse your lips, crossing your arms. "We sent out invites to all his classmates, but ever since we moved, Simon's been having trouble making friends."

"He has trouble?"

"It's not his fault!" You snap before grimacing, lowering your voice, "Sorry, it's just... Simon tries to make friends, but kids are mean, you know? They're young, but they already have their established friend groups and exclude him because he's new."

New. Different. Any reason along those lines. It doesn't matter to kids. Or it does, and that's why they're unjustly cruel to their peers. He understands. Simon grew up with many of his schoolmates avoiding him for being 'weird', not knowing his home life. Tommy had 'friends' but they weren't exactly a good crowd.

"So you want me to come?" Simon asks, and he's met with a tired expression he's never seen on you before—not even when you were sick and weak and needed to be looked after. You look as if you hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, about to collapse.

"He tries not to let it get him down, but if no one shows up..." You bite your lip, a flash of pain in your eyes at the thought of your son hurting. "Please? He likes you, and even if you're the only one who shows up, it'll mean a lot to him."

Simon looks at you. Really looks at you and takes in the desperation in your eyes. You look as if you'd do anything to convince him to come. Even fight him. Tie him up. Anything to drag him to your son's party. You'd probably do it, mother bear that you are.

But you don't need to do that. You won't ever have to fight another battle. Not if he can help it. Simon will fight your battles for you from now on.

"I'll come."

You have his devotion. You and your boy.

"Really?" You brighten up, the hopeless look in your eyes washing away.

He nods. "I'll bring a mate with some brats around your lad's age. They're friendly. They'll like him."

"Will they? Are you sure your friend will be okay with it?"

"They will, and the bastard owes me one, anyway."

No, he doesn't, but Johnny will pull through. Him and his seemingly endless amount of nieces and nephews, although he'll only need to bring a few.

A wide smile breaks out on your face, bright like the sun, and oh- that's where your boy got his grin. Without warning, you leap into his arms, forceful enough to make him grunt. You hug him, burying your face into his shoulder with Simon's hands hovering at your waist, fingers twitching.

It's rare to catch him off guard. So many new sensations fill his senses. Your warmth, surrounding him like a blanket; your scent, sweet and calming with a freshness to it that makes him want to bury his face into your neck and inhale. Or maybe he would bite into your soft skin to see if you taste as pleasant as you smell. If he wasn't so controlled, he probably would sate his curiosity right now.

You stiffen, your body tensing as if you're aware of what you've done, and move to back away, but Simon stops you, resting his hands on your hips. You gently melt your body against his again.

"Thank you, Simon," You softly murmur into his shoulder. It's a quiet sound, but he hears it and lets his arms wrap you in a full hug. You melt against his body, sighing. He doesn't think he's ever felt so warm before. "And just so you know... it means a lot to me, too, that you're coming."

-

Simon: > Johnny

Johnny: > Yeah, lt?

Simon: > You busy tomorrow?

Johnny: > Yes? > I have a date with that bonnie piano teacher I told you about > ... why

Simon: > Cancel it > Have something I need you to do

Johnny: > Work related?

Simon: > No

Johnny: > Then why can't you do it?

Simon: > I'm already on it > Cancel your date

Johnny: > Then why do you need me? > I'm not gonna cancel my date you dobber

-

"Cannae believe ye made us come all the way to fuckin' Manchester. Do y'know how many fuckin' hours ye made us drive, Ghost? The wee ones didnae like gettin' up so arse fuckin' early, either-"

"Shut up, Johnny. You owed me one."

"I didnae?!"

A giggle from Soap's bonnie piano teacher. "You're accent thickens when you're upset, John."

"Today was supposed to be our date!"

"It's not so bad. I still get to spend time with you."

"... Guess not, but I'll take you out proper tomorrow, promise."

"See, Johnny? Everyone wins."

"Awa’ an bile yer heid, Ghost."

-

Despite all his complaining, Johnny is a good guest and keeps the children entertained, playing the part of the fun uncle by letting the kids wrestle or play tag with him, not minding the grass stains as they roughhouse in the park. Currently, he's playing an informal football game with them—six vs. one. He's mostly blocking the ball from entering the goal, but it's still fun for all of them.

Little Simon is extra happy with his new friends. He's been smiling nonstop since they all introduced themselves, grin extra proud when he revealed his name.

("Like Uncle Simon's?"

"Yeah, he says it's a fine name!")

You also haven't stopped smiling ever since they arrived. Not quite as big as your boy's grin, but it still hasn't left. You and Soap's date get along swimmingly, too. He can already tell you'll be good friends with the teacher.

"Not gonna join them?"

Simon looks to see you standing next to him under the tree, watching the children as Soap 'misses' a shot from one of his nephews.

"Where's your friend?" He asks instead.

"Went looking for a bathroom." You gesture vaguely in the direction Soap's date disappeared off to. "So, not gonna play?"

He shakes his head. "Johnny's got it."

"Oh?" The suspiciously innocuous tone makes his eyes narrow. "Is it because he's the better footballer between you two?"

Simon slowly turns towards you, glaring with no real heat, but it still doesn't stop your panicked giggle when he takes a half step in your direction, making you back up against the tree. He gets closer and leans into your space, nearly brushing his front against yours. You audibly gulp, and Simon places a palm on the tree, hand right next to your head. He gets close to your face, watching your eyes widen then dart down to look at somewhere on the bottom half of his face before meeting his eyes again. You bite your lip.

"Repeat that for me, sweetheart." Simon growls softly, and you give a sharp, little inhale.

"U-um. I'd rather... not." Your voice comes out breathy, and you place a hand on his chest as if to stabilize yourself.

"I wasn't asking." He doesn't give you a chance to breathe, leaning in closer, and your fingers dig a little into his pec, making his muscles flex under your touch. "I'll say again: repeat that for me."

With nowhere to run, pinned to a tree, you tremble against his body, breathing heavily and barely able to meet his eyes, licking your lips. It takes you a moment to build up the nerve to speak with Simon surrounding your senses.

"I um... I um-"

"Simon, Uncle Johnny said to come play with us!"

Instantly, he backs away from you and turns around to see your boy running over. Behind him, he hears you exhale a quiet, little, "Fuck..."

Fuck, indeed.

He turns his attention to the lad once he comes to a stop in front of him. "Is that what he said?"

"Uh-huh! He said we're giving him trouble, and it'll make it more fair so he's not the only one guarding."

Simon looks over to where Johnny stands with the football held casually to the side between his arm and waist. The man smirks knowingly, glancing between you and Simon before giving a cheeky wave. He glares back. "I'll show him trouble."

"What did you say, Simon?"

He looks back at your boy. "Nothing. I'll come play."

The lad's eyes brighten with a celebratory cheer, grabbing his wrist and leading the way to the field. Simon looks back to see you better composed, if a little disheveled, but smiling nonetheless at the two like they're the only ones who matter.

-

After cake and presents, the children return to playing football with the new football that Soap gave as a present for little Simon, along with your boy wearing a jersey from the Scot's favorite team. A petty move from Soap, in Simon's opinion, but he'll let him have this one. He'll get your boy cheering for Man United soon enough.

The adults hang back in their own pairs. Soap and his date finally getting a moment to themselves, nibbling on cake and talking about whatever it is they talk about at the picnic table, and you and Simon are back under the tree, keeping a respectable distance between each other.

"Kid seems happy," Simon idly notes, watching your boy laugh and play with the younger MacTavish's. "You did good."

"Me?" You glance at him. "You were the one to bring a tiny tribe to Simon's birthday. Look at him. That smile is because of you."

"That smile is because you're a good mum," Simon states in a way that leaves no room for questions. "You were the one who made today happen. You gave your lad the birthday he deserved. He'll remember this."

Like how Simon remembers his mum doing her best to give him and Tommy the birthdays they deserved, no matter how small the celebration was.

You're looking at him as if you can't quite believe he's real, a cute, astonished look adorning your face. He's tempted to make a comment about it until you give a quiet, amazed laugh, reaching for his hand to give it a grateful squeeze. You don't pull away, and he doesn't let go.

"Even so, Simon had a great seventh birthday, and a lot of it is because of you. You did more than you had to- more than his father ever did! Bastard didn't even send a happy birthday text, son of a bitch." You exhale a heavy, calming breath. "But never mind that... What I'm trying to say is thank you. You didn't have to do what you did, and ever since we met, you've been really good to him."

You shoot him a teasing look. "What's your secret? Have a hidden family out there or something?"

A darker part of Simon is tempted to laugh. You're kind of right, in a messed up way, but he doesn't hold it against you. He hums, contemplating. "I had a nephew."

"Had?" The information takes another second to process. "Oh! I mean..."

"Don't have to say anything." Simon stares out to where the kids are playing. He imagines another boy running among them. Both younger and older than the children out in the field. Taken too young with no opportunity to grow. To live. He squeezes your hand. "He reminds me of him. Joseph. Would have been a couple years older than your lad by now, but I think they would have gotten along."

"Think so?" You send him a soft smile, stepping closer to hug his arm. "Tell me more about him?"

Simon looks at you, the warmth of your body pressed against him, and it suddenly feels like there's no one else in the world. There's just you and him under this tree, with your boy's laughter ringing like bells in the air, and that's when it hits.

Settle down... He's finally starting to get it, Tommy.

-

soap's piano teacher is something i want to write out, but idk if i'll get to it

[nanaslutt]

Rivalry

synopsis: Geto and Gojo learn to share (you)

cont: fem reader, they're all 'friends', masturbation, oral (they eat you out together), making out (satosugu), competitiveness, arguing, teasing, dirty talk, choking, hand jobs, so much sexual tension it hurts

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Satoru jabs his shoulder into Suguru's not acknowledging it as he pulled your thigh over his shoulder harder, bringing your cunt more towards him. Geto felt the vein in his forehead pop out as he tsked loudly, repeating the same action Gojo had just done to him, his warm fingers digging into your other thigh as he tried and failed to pull you more towards him thanks to Satoru's iron grip. 

The duo continued giving each other painfully obvious side eyes and noises of disgust at the other. "Hey... hey- hey!!" You snapped, snapping the men out of their childish fight as their heads turned to face yours. You propped your arms behind you on the bed, looking down at them with a scowel. "Stop fucking fights, you assholes are stretching my legs too much I can feel my ligaments ripping." You said dramatically.

Your legs were spread so far apart to accommodate both obnoxiously wide and built men, you were already struggling enough, and now they were trying to pull you apart like some dog toy. "It seems like you two are more interested in yourselves than me. Maybe this wasn't a good idea." You said with a scowl, ready to end this before it even started. 

"No! no, no, we'll behave." Gojo said quickly, panic evident in his tone as he took your words seriously. "Won't we, Suguru?" The white-haired man looked over at the man next to him with a faux smile plastered on his face. Suguru's lip twitched as he forced his own smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Right, sorry pretty." He replied, pursing his lips at his best friend before he directed his eyes at you once more, his expression immediately softening. 

"Yeah?" You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked between the two of them. "You mean it? You really won't fight anymore?" You continued, a hint of malicious intent behind your tone. The boys must've picked up on it because neither of them dared to move, their faces void of emotion as they looked at you expectantly, knowing something else was coming.

"Then kiss." 

It was cartoonish the way their jaws dropped in tandem, they stayed silent as they waited for you to say 'just kidding', but it never came. "What? If you're so friendly now, what's a little kiss, hm?" You said, trying to hold back your laughter at their expressions, "Unless..." You continued, your voice tone changing to one laced with faux uncertainty, "...you guys lied? You're going to keep fighting huh? Might as well end this now in that case-" Your words got caught in your throat as Gojo turned his head toward Geto and grabbed his neck harshly, forcing their faces together as he kissed him harshly.

"Oh~" You cooed, your eyebrows raising at the unexpected action. Truthfully, you were only teasing them, but you guessed they were taking this more seriously than you thought, just how bad did they want you? "Mmm!" Geto moaned against his best friend's lips in surprise as he stilled, his lips not moving against Gojo's as he did all the work, slotting his lips against Geto's.

Suguru's hand gripped Gojo's wrist in a warning as the white-haired man's fingers dug into the sides of his neck dominatingly. There was no way Geto was going to let Satoru take charge like this. You felt yourself throb between your legs when Geto released Gojo's hand and took his slender neck in his the same way Gojo was doing to him. When he squeezed, a choked moan was released from Gojo's lips into the kiss.

He had expected Geto to fight back, but he didn't expect him to be so rough. Geto started moving his mouth against Gojo's, trying to gain control. The two of them were quite literally fighting with their lips. The kiss was full of teeth, tongue, and spit as the growled agaisnt the other's lips. Saliva was dripping down Gojo's chin from how harshly Geto was licking into his mouth as he fought Gojo's tongue for dominance.

But the stubborn blue-eyed man wasn't one to back down from a fight. He tried to ignore the throbbing he felt in his boxers as he choked Geto out while he tongued his mouth, trying to stick his tongue down the other's throat. Their eyes stayed open for the most part as they looked into the eyes of the other challengingly, only fluttering shut briefly when one squeezed the other's neck, they must both be sensitive there.

"Okay, okay. I think you guys have proved yourselves." You giggled, interrupting their kiss. They detached their lips from the other at the sound of your voice, almost like they were in a daze and your voice was the key that set them free. Both men breathed heavily with red faces and lidded eyes as they looked at the other. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" You asked, trying to ignore the intense throbbing you felt between your thighs so you could tease them a little more. 

Geto released his hand from Gojo's neck, making the other follow suit before he looked between your legs and noticed a drop of your slick was sliding down your inner thigh. Suguru smirked as he wiped up the trail of your arousal before he wiped his finger through your folds, making your body jolt in surprise as he smeared the wetness agaisnt your clit, "Yeah... guess you liked it too, huh?" He asked, smirking as he slowly rubbed your little bud with his pointer finger. 

Gojo couldn't ignore the throbbing he felt between his thighs any longer as he watched Geto rub your swollen clit. He started grinding his hips into the sheets for some relief as he gripped your thigh over his shoulder for support, taking in the sight in front of him greedily. 

"H-hey... I didn't say you could touch me yet." You spoke softly, trying to keep your voice steady as you spoke, the task proving incredibly difficult from Geto's light teasing touch. "No?" he replied, it was his turn to tease you now. "But you're begging for it down here, should I just ignore what she wants? That doesn't seem very nice." Geto spoke, referring to your cunt like it was a person. 

You stayed silent, trying to hold your moans and whines back from his ministrations. "Cmon Satoru, back me up." He said, surprising the man on his left. That kiss really had done wonders, just earlier they were fighting about who got to be closer to your cunt and now they were working together to touch you? In your heart, you knew this comradery wouldn't last long, but it was nice to see if only for a little bit. 

Satoru didn't even look Suguru's way, instead, his eyes stayed zeroed in on your pussy as he reached out and used his index and middle fingers to drag through your folds near the entrance of your pussy and scoop up some of your wetness there while Geto rubbed your clit. "Oh fuck... you're right, that kiss did more for you than it did for us, huh?" Gojo teased, rubbing circles around your tight entrance teasingly, making you think he might slip his fingers in at any moment. 

Satoru looked towards the man next to him when he laughed incredulously, clearly not a sound that was backing up his previous words, no, this laugh was directed at him. "Don't play coy, I saw how you were rutting your hips against the bed. Kissing me got your dick all stiff huh?" Geto teased, laughing at his best friend. Gojo tsked, his lips curling in a snarl. He was right though, although it wasn't all from the kiss, Gojo couldn't deny that the little interaction they shared had made him horny, maybe even made him leak in his boxers a little.

"Look who's acting all high and mighty when you're as hard as I am right now. Your lucky your laying on your stomach, I bet your boner is so fucking obvious through those thin-ass shorts." Gojo shot back, both the men's fingers on your pussy pausing as they started arguing once more. You sighed, you knew they wouldn't be able to get along for longer than five minutes.

"Do you want to kiss again?" You asked, your words immediately ceasing all arguing between the boys. Honestly, they both didn't mind the kiss, they could both agree internally the other was a good kisser and they were pretty easy on the eyes, but they would rather die than admit that out loud, hence why their big egos made them shut their mouth when you threatened them with a kiss. 

"Really? You hated it that much?" You giggled, shaking your head at their childishness. "So I guess you would really hate touching each other too, right?" Your words sent chills down their spine, but not in a negative way, in a pleasant way, which shocked them both. They had pecked on the lips as high schoolers teasingly and jerked off in the same room while watching porn together once or twice, but they had never dared to cross that line.

Their silence spoke volumes, you watched their eyes dart around the room as their faces scrunched in embarrassment. You decided to give them a break, not wanting to push them too hard, but you weren't going to give up on this so easily. "Relax, it was just a question." You said, easing the tension that had filled up the room. 

"It's not nice to tease people you know," Gojo replied, leaning in to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his hair tickling your skin. You gasped quietly in surprise, your body squirming against the sheets as he continued pressing kisses against you. "A-all you do is tease people Satoru." You replied before Geto could, effectively stopping yet another argument. Geto smirked when you took the words right out of his mouth.

"I'm older than you, you should treat your elders with respect. Picking on you builds character." He replied, making you snort. 'Elders', he wasn't even that much older than you. You were about to respond when you felt his lips kiss your pussy, right against your folds below your throbbing clit. "Did that feel good?" He asked, repeating the action, making your hands fall into his hair, carding through the strands.

Looking over to Geto you noticed his face looked more relaxed than he did seconds ago. His eyes were more lidded and his mouth was slightly open in a small o as he watched Gojo kiss your pussy, not yet using his tongue against you. It was only when you noticed his shoulder moving up and down that you realized why he looked so flushed, he was touching himself. He swallowed hard before biting his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes briefly closing as he palmed himself over his shorts for some relief. 

"Suguru... I want you to touch me too." You replied. It was so obvious he wanted to join in but didn't really know where to fit in. He was practically salivating as he watched Gojo kiss where he wanted to put his own lips. He looked up at you and gave you a lazy smile, one that made your heart skip in your chest. "Yeah? Want me to lick your pussy?" He asked, starting to lean his head closer to where you needed him.

"Hey, there's no room for you down here, go somewhere else," Gojo responded, dragging his lips down your thighs on Geto's side to emphasize his words. "Make room then," Geto responded, knocking his head against Gojo's as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh where Gojo just did. In his head, he was erasing Gojo's kisses, such a childish thought. 

You abandoned one of your hands on Gojo's head to rest on Geto's, digging your fingers into his hair. "P-please... do something." You begged, your voice coming out needier than you were expecting. "Ohh? Were you just telling me how you didn't give me permission to touch you? Are you giving me permission now?" Gojo asked, trying to make your words all about him.

You dug your fingers deeper into his hair, you felt your annoyance much stronger with how aroused you were, you weren't in the mood to be teased by him anymore. "Yes, fuck, both of you. C'mon, hurry." You instructed, pushing both of their heads towards where you needed them the most. 

The two men were so absorbed in their own little world with you that they bumped heads when they both tried to lick your clit at the same time. "Fuck, Satoru moves your head, I wanna suck her clit." Geto growled, knocking his head against his once more, on purpose this time. "No, you move, that's what I was going to do." Gojo shot back, his face flushed with his arousal and need to touch you.

You sighed, staying quiet this time as you wanted to see where this fight took them. Maybe they were able to figure something out without your interference, but if they couldn't, you would have to step in and fix their attitudes. 

"You're so annoying, get your own ideas," Geto responded, shoving Gojo's head harshly against your thigh, successfully pushing him out of the way so he could latch onto your clit. You gasped when you felt the plushness of his lips around your neglected bud, your back arching at the stimulation. Gojo snarled as he watched Geto get the first real taste of you, but he couldn't deny the harsh twitch of his cock in his boxers when he caught a glimpse of Geto's soft tongue poking out between his lip as he caressed your clit with it.

Gojo decided he was going to do what he wanted to do anyway, and in the process, make Geto so uncomfortable that he let Gojo take his current place in sucking your clit. His next actions had your pussy clenching around nothing. Gojo leaned in and tilted his head at an angle before sticking his tongue out and forcing his tongue under Geto's to poke at your clit.

Geto had felt Gojo's soft hair tickle the side of his face when he leaned in, but he figured the man was going to suck you lower or tongue fuck you, not make out with him while trying to lick your clit. Surugu's eyes cracked open in disbelief but not once did he cease his tongue's movements agaisnt you. Gojo moaned against your pussy with a smile on his face as he rubbed your clit with his soft tongue.

"O-oh fuck" You moaned, your back arching and legs threatening to snap in on their heads as they ate you out together. Geto's first instinct was to fight Gojo with his tongue but he realized that might hurt you in the process, and this was about making you feel good, not about his own personal grievances. 

Sighing, he tilted his head at an angle like Gojo's and released his lips from around your clit, opting to just stick his tongue out and bat the little bud with his tongue. Gojo huffed out a laugh at Geto's compromise, feeling like he had one somehow, even though he was doing the same thing Geto was.

"K-keep doing that!" You praised, realizing the men had calmed down a bit and were now slowly starting to figure out that working together can be better than working alone. "F-feels so good when you g-guys do that." Your head tipped back against the sheets as you whined their names freely, your nails digging against both of their scalps.

The longer they ran their tongues over your folds and occasionally licked each other, the more the tension dissipated and turned into a more carnal sense of need for pleasure. Gojo started trying to intentionally follow where Geto's tongue was, not only to increase the pleasure you were feeling but because it felt good to touch his tongue to Geto's. It felt forbidden, which made his whole body feel hot. 

Geto quickly caught on. At first, they were licking at your clit together, then they fell into a sort of rhythm where one of them tongued near your entrance while the other licked your clit, alternating like that. But now, they were trying to be in the same place at once, and it was heightening Geto's sensitivity.

The way no one was saying anything about it either made them feel even hotter like they were pretending nothing weird was happening. "I'm so hard." Gojo mumbled needily into your pussy, getting a coo of his name from you followed by a "Touch yourself for me." And touch himself he did. 

Geto had paused on touching himself when he started licking you, focusing more on what his tongue was doing than his hand. Once he watched Gojo sneak his hand under his body to jerk himself off in the tight space of his crotch being pressed against the bed, he started rubbing himself too. He had pushed his own arousal to the side, but from the taste of your cunt, your noises, and the constant push and pull from Gojo, he could no longer contain himself once Gojo stopped holding back.

"Mmm... fuck... I- I wanna fuck you so bad." Gojo whined against you, his voice sending vibrations through your pussy. Geto's face heat up at Gojo's words. He slowly slipped his fingers past the waistband of his shorts and boxers when his arousal grew too much. Suguru always was a whore for dirty talk. "Y-your fingers, fuck me with your fingers-" You cried, humping your hips towards their faces.

When Gojo detached his lips from your pussy to get a good look at your tight little hole, Geto took the opportunity to suckle your clit back into his mouth now that he had it all to himself. "So sweet, so fucking sweet." He mumbled, squeezing his hand around his cock harder when he felt your little bud throb in his mouth. Gojo bit his lip and quickened his strokes on himself as he started humping his hand like a fleshlight, the slide eased by how wet he was from all the pre-cum he had been leaking. 

"Geto stop for a second, I can't see," Gojo said, his voice abandoned of any real malice and instead replaced with raw need. Geto obliged, pulling his lips away from you begrudgingly, he parted your folds with his fingers for Gojo while the white-haired man rubbed two thick fingers agaisnt your tight entrance, teasing you. "You're being so nice to me now." Gojo giggled, looking over at his best friend who was holding you open for him. 

"Shut up and finger her so I can go back to eating her out." Geto deflected, ignoring the fact that Gojo was right, he was becoming too pussydrunk to fight with Gojo like before. Gojo giggled as he started to press his fingers into you, breaching your tight hole. "Satoru!!" You cried, making him bite his lip as he penetrated you fully, his fingers sliding inside you to the hilt with ease thanks to your wetness. 

"You're so fucking tight baby... fuckkk I can only imagine how well this pretty pussy takes cock." He fantasized, making his own, and Geto's cock twitch at the mental image. With lidded eyes, Gojo started slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of you before he looked to Geto, "Go ahead, she's all yours." he said with a smirk.

Geto wasted no time in sucking your clit back into his mouth, shaking his head agaisnt you as he abused you little bud. Your head was going fuzzy, the way Gojo was curling his fingers into your gspot was making you cant your hips against Geto's mouth, forcing his tongue to rub you harder. "W-wait, wait, I think I'm gonna cum-" You cried, your arms shaking from the intensity of the building orgasm.

"Yeahhh? Gonna cum all over my fingers? Let Suguru lick up your cum?" He cooed, smirking at you. Gojo's cock throbbed against the sheets when he released his hand from his cock and placed it over yours atop Geto's head, shoving him harder into your cunt. Geto moaned in surprise but internally groaned as he knew Gojo was most definitely smearing his precum all over his pretty hair.

"C'monn, you're doing the heavy lifting here," Gojo spoke to Geto who was now furiously sucking your clit, alternating between the latter motion and flattening his tongue against you and rubbing back and forth. Each time his tongue accidentally touched the base of Gojo's fingers when he pulled them out of you, and he got a taste of your wetness from the inside, his eyes rolling back in his head. How was it possible for someone to taste so sweet?

"Shit- wait- fuck I'm r-really cumming-" You cried, feeling a ball of something more intense well up in your tummy. Your words made Geto groan loudly against you, the sound coming out muffled from how hard he was pressed agaisnt you. Geto was focusing more on his tip now as he tried to bring himself to the brink of orgasm with you, but the tight space in which he was pressed against the sheets was making it hard for him to get the proper stimulation.

"Let it out, we got you baby we got you." Gojo cooed, speaking for the both of them as you rode Geto's face and his fingers. Gojo's jaw dropped with your own as your body stilled and you came. Only this wasn't like one of your regular orgasms. A warm feeling spread throughout your whole body as you came, the tight bundle in your tummy had snapped and you squirted all over Geto's hungry tongue.

Gojo moaned loudly as he fingerfucked you through your orgasm, groaning through his teeth. Geto's eyes rolled back in his head as he opened his mouth and tried to drink up as much of your wetness as he could. You could barely hear Gojo's whistle as your orgasm clouded all of your senses. You shook and writhed agaisnt the sheets as the boys worked you through possibly one of the most intense orgasms you'd ever had. 

"O-oh-" Your stomach clenched and your body jerked in on yourself as your orgasm ended and you were thrown into overstimulation when Geto continued eating you out, too pussydrunk on you to realize you had already finished. "Easyyy~" Gojo said softly, gripping Geto's hair harshly as he yanked him up and away from you. The man was breathing heavily, his face flushed red and covered with your cum as he was pulled away.

The bed sheets and your thighs were stained wet with your cum. You had no time to be embarrassed though as the only thing on your mind was getting the boys to cum too. "C-come here." You said softly, releasing their head simultaneously and nodding at them to get closer. Gojo moved quicker than Geto, who seemed to still be in a daze as they rose from their place between your thighs, your legs falling against the bed limply.

Once they were both sitting on their heels by your chest, looking at you expectantly, you stuck out your hands in an O shape. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what you were wanting from them. You gave both men a fucked out smile as they hastily worked on pulling their erect cocks out of their pants. Geto held his cock out over your chest, stroking it slowly as he looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and an open mouth, it clearly wasn't going to take much to get him to cum. 

Looking over at Gojo, he was already fitting his cock in your weak O-shaped hand, waiting for you to jerk him off. "C'mon... you wanna touch us right?" He asked, trying to mask his need with that teasing voice of his. You smiled softly before you took both of their cocks in your soft hands and began stroking them off together, keeping the same pace and speed for both of them.

"H-hahh..." Both of their moans were mingling and tangling together, you couldn't tell who's belonged to whom. Geto was staring at your hand in a trance as you jerked him off. His mouth fluttered open like a fish out of water, his breathing coming out stuttered and uneven, you knew he was close. Gojo on the other hand, was entranced with the slick that was dripping down Geto's chin.

He licked his lips before he made a split-second decision to taste it. They had already crossed so many unspoken boundaries today, what was one more? Leaning forward, Gojo placed his hand on the back of Geto's neck and pulled his unsuspecting face toward him. Suguru's breath caught in his lungs when he felt Gojo's tongue collect the cum from his neck and chin, the white-haired man making a path from the bottom of his face to his lips, before he connected them together like before, this time of their own volition.

"Fuck.." You cursed, your face heating up as you watched the men's tongues tangle with each other. "You guys are so fucking hot." Geto groaned at your words, both of his hands wrapping around the back of Gojo's neck as he kept him against his face, relishing in how good his best friend's tongue felt against his. "I'm so close baby, keep going- f-fuck." Gojo groaned against Geto's lips, his fingers caressing the other's neck harder as his orgasm approached.

The sounds coming from their lips were so vulgar, combined with their desperate moans it was making your cunt throb. "God... m-my tip, focus on my tip," Geto instructed, starting to thrust his hips into your hand, aiding you in pleasuring him. "Your tip is sensitive?" Gojo asked, pulling away from Geto's lips to whisper against them. "I remember that when we jerked off before, you didn't notice it but I was watching you. Watching how squirmy you got when you touched yourself there." Gojo teased, working Geto up with his words.

"Ohooo, this is interesting." You giggled, feeling the men drip steady streams of pre-cum over your hand, making the vulgar squelching noises echo louder in the room. "S-shut the fuck up, S-Satoru-" Gojo spit back, averting his eyes from his bestfriend. Gojo let Geto pull his head back, their hands dropping from each other as they became seconds from cumming.

"God... god your hand feels so good princess, I-I'm gonna cum-" Geto whined, his eyes finding yours as his face scrunched in pleasure. "Cum for me Suguru, wanna watch you when you cum." You replied, making him groan loudly as his cock throbbed in your hand. "Heyyy~ You're making me feel left out," Gojo whined childishly, his hands wrapped around your smaller one that held his cock before he started thrusting into it, squeezing your hand tighter around him.

You looked over at him and shook your head as if the two men didn't just make out on top of you while you jerked them off. Your gaze was swiftly corrected by Geto's hand that gripped your chin, making you look at him. "S-said you wanted to watch me cum." He moaned, his voice breathy and high-pitched. "W-watch- f-fuck fuck fuck-" Long hot ropes of cum spilled from his cock and all over your chest, which was covered by one of Gojo's old band tee's. Something told you after today though, he wouldn't mind his shirt covered in Geto's cum.

"Good boy, fuck. You're so pretty Suguru." You praised, keeping your eyes on his face as his eyes squeezed shut and his orgasm wracked through his body, his abs clenching and his body spasming with his high. The only warning you got from Gojo was an obnoxiously loud moan before he was cumming. He grit curses through his teeth as he used your hand to milk his cock.

His cum was thinner than Geto's, but there was more of it, and his cum shot further when most of Geto's just spilled over your fingers. Geto groaned in annoyance when a rope of Satoru's cum landed on his thigh as Suguru twitched in the aftershocks of his orgasm. "So tighttt~" Gojo moaned, smiling through his orgasm as he squeezed his hands tighter over yours, almost painfully so.

"Ugh... fucking gross, you got your cum all over me Satoru." Were the first words spilling from Geto's mouth when he fully came down. Gojo wrung out his cock using your fist as he pulled it out of the makeshift pussy, making sure he gave you all of his cum. "Oh shut up, just grab a tissue you big baby." Gojo spat back, leaving his softening cock hanging out as he laid down beside you, putting his arm behind you, against the pillow you were laying on.

"No, you get me a tissue." He spat back, laying on your other side as he leaned slightly over your body to curse at the man next to you, his arm siding under your shoulders as he squinted at Gojo. "Hah???? I'm not your maid, get it yourself." Gojo retorted, looking at the man incredulously. You gave up on looking between them or trying to stop them for that matter.

You just layed there comfortably, your smaller body being squished and smothered by two large men who fought for your touch while simultaneously screaming at each other over a cum rag. You heaved a dramatic sigh, which both of them failed to catch, of course. You thought a little intimate time would bring them closer together but clearly, you were wrong. 

———————————————————————

Bonus: At some point, Geto gave in and went to the bathroom to grab Gojo a tissue, leaving Gojo to take the opportunity to grab your body and pull you on top of him, wrapping his arms and legs around you like a koala. You shook your head, sighing as you knew this would only lead to another fight. When Geto stepped into the room once more, he was met by an annoyingly smug, Gojo face, making his vein pop out on his forehead. "Oh, you bitch." He growled, marching toward the bed.

You ended up falling asleep that night quite literally crushed between two large, muscly, hot, sweaty men. If you didn't die overnight from axphixiation, that would be a miracle. Honestly, though, you were just glad they had stopped fighting, so if that meant you had to die by suffocation? So be it.

[tarotsoul]

Ghost in the Wind — Part Three

SUMMARY: As feelings progress and truths unfold, you're left with a decision that could end your entire existence as you know it. The Mother has a path for every soul, perhaps this was where yours was supposed to end.

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions and brief descriptions of sexual abuse, consensual sexual themes, mentions of death and suicide.

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

Series Masterlist

Feyre Archeron could never begin to imagine the pain and horror her older cousin had faced in the mortal lands. Rhysand hadn’t shared that image, hadn’t shared the memories he’d witnessed when he took some of that pain away from you. 

She didn’t need her mate to share those visuals. Not when she felt every ounce of anguish through their bond. And every day since then, she had not been able to forget it. 

Another two weeks had passed since your arrival, three in total of your being in the Night Court, and you were finally beginning to work through your trauma. 

The offer had been there to find your own place of residence, to have that independence if you so wished. But after speaking with Feyre and Rhysand, after learning it was in fact Nesta who had imposed the leave Y/N be rule… you realised just how much you loved living in the House with your family. 

Your friends. 

So when you’d finally accepted Mor’s desperate pleas to take you shopping and fill your empty wardrobe…

“You’re going to need another dresser.” 

You blinked, taking in the mess around you. Your entire closet was stuffed to the brim with dresses, blouses, sweaters, coats…

And the pile on your bed…there was no chance of those articles of clothing fitting in the closet too. Nesta was right, you definitely needed another dresser. 

“Rhys is going to lose his shit when he finds out how much we spent.” 

Your eyes widened at Nesta’s words, not quite picking up the teasing tone she spoke in. Mor shot her a look and threw a sweater at her face. 

“She’s kidding,” Mor reassured. “My dear cousin has more money than sense. This won’t have even made a dent in his wealth.” 

A relief, but that guilt began to creep its way into the pit of your stomach nonetheless. You were ashamed to admit that while you had fun shopping with Mor and your cousin, you hadn’t even taken a moment to realise how much everything had cost. 

Nesta threw herself onto your bed, right on top of the throng of clothes you needed to find a place for. “I’m thinking we raid Rhys’ wine cellar tonight…”

A gleaming smile radiated off Mor’s face in agreeance and they both turned to you with upraised brows, expectant. 

You pursed your lips, an apologetic smile on your face. “I told Rhys and Feyre that I’d babysit Nyx tonight.” 

Nesta huffed and threw herself back on the mattress again, clothes bouncing and crinkling as she did so. Mor raised another brow, as if that wasn’t a good enough excuse. 

“So? I’ve gotten drunk while watching Nyx loads of times.” 

Nesta seethed at her. “One, that’s my nephew and I never want to hear you doing that again. And two, Y/N’s tolerance to alcohol won’t be as strong as ours. Two glasses and she’d be borderline incapacitated.”

Despite the slight insult, a laugh bubbled up your throat at just how right she was. Because you’d never even drank a sip of wine in your life, and Nesta knew that. 

“I’m surprised you don’t have plans with Azriel…” 

Mor was prying, you knew that. But you had no control over the heat that made its way across your neck and face. 

“We’re just friends.” It wasn’t a lie. You’d spent a lot of time together the past couple of weeks, and he was one of the only people you felt truly comfortable around. 

Mor gave you a knowing look. “Mhm, tell that to his shadows.” 

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nesta scoffed, sitting up again. “Az’s shadows are basically an extension of himself.”

Mor hummed. “They don’t do anything unless Azriel commands it. Or sometimes, they’ll do something based on his emotions or thoughts. They’re so friendly with you because Azriel likes you.” 

Your cheeks burned. You hadn’t realised his shadows touching you was a product of Azriel’s emotions. And the more you thought about it, there hadn’t been a time since you met him that they hadn’t touched you in some way. 

You didn’t say that, though. No. Azriel clearly had no qualms about other people noticing, but that did not mean you were willing to gossip about it. 

You did not need to allow silly fantasies to root their way in your mind. Azriel was your friend. And you were okay with him only wanting you as such. 

Within an hour, Mor had disappeared to tend to her own duties and just as Nesta was about to leave for hers, she grabbed your wrist and motioned for you to look at her. 

“I’m proud of you, you know.”

She didn’t need to say anything more. Those words were enough—more than enough. She saw you, she recognised everything you had been through and everything you did every day to overcome it. 

I’m proud of you. 

The last and only person to have ever told you that was your mother. 

And because you saw her too, because you remembered fhe young mortal woman she was before her own struggles of turning Fae and adjusting to her new lifestyle, you found yourself saying, “I’m proud of you, too, Ness.”

Nyx had been wonderful to look after that night. 

You’d gotten all the cuddles and boyish giggles, the beautiful little smiles and a few stinky diapers to go with it. You loved every moment with the little babe, and when Rhys and Feyre returned from their night off early in the morning, you offered to sit with him again whenever they needed it. 

But despite how fulfilling and wonderful it had been, it had also hurt. You wondered if you’d ever be blessed with the opportunity to carry and birth your own child. Wondered if you’d ever even find someone to want you in that way. 

Especially within Prythian. 

It was another late night for you, though your reading sessions had taken you from the lounge to the library. And you no longer spent them alone. 

Azriel sat on the couch opposite you, his nose deep in a book as you watched him. In the past week, you’d spent a lot of time together. It ranged from walks into the city to sitting and reading in the library until early hours of the morning. 

You’d grown accustomed to his presence, his scent often able to calm any anxiety or qualms you felt. He had noticed, of course, he wasn’t a Spymaster for nothing. But Azriel did not mention the change in you whenever he was around. 

He basked in it, in the way you appeared so much more comfortable with him. You weren’t afraid to speak up, to ask questions or acknowledge whatever was on your mind. 

You were coming out of your shell and it warmed Azriel’s heart to know that he was somewhat of the cause for it. 

“What does salacious mean?”

Azriel blinked repeatedly as your voice broke him from his thoughts. Salacious? His throat tightened. You’d often ask for definitions of things you were unsure on, sometimes even asking how to pronounce words you had never come across. 

But salacious? 

“Are you reading Nesta’s romance novels?” He quirked a brow. 

Your lips involuntarily pouted at him, your own brows furrowing just slightly as you rested the open book back into your blanket-covered lap. “Yes. Why?”

Anxiety creeped its way into your stomach, rooting deep into your flesh from the inside out. Reminders of how this used to go flashed through your mind and suddenly, it felt like you were back in the village, back in the mortal lands and living with Rafe. 

A tendril of darkness peaked at the corner of your vision and you focussed on it, watching it slowly dance across your knuckles and weave between your fingers in a calming manner. 

Shadows. Azriel. Library. Velaris. Safe. 

And just like that, the anxiety un-clawed its roots and crept away. 

Azriel nodded ever so slightly to the book, knowing exactly what had just happened with you but acting as if he didn’t. “Salacious means…having inappropriate interest in sexual matters.”

There was no hiding the heat on your cheeks—the way it burned your soft skin. You tore your gaze from his as quickly as you could, unable to contain your slight shame and embarrassment. 

But Azriel did not mind one bit. 

Azriel had secrets. He supposed that being the Night Court’s Spymaster, it was to be expected. But these secrets were different from the others, something he kept locked tight in his mind for the past month. 

And it wasn’t the secrets that had him moving closer and spending all of his time in the lower level of the House. No. That was very much you and your presence and whatever it was in your soul that called out to his. 

He couldn’t stay away—though, it wasn’t like he even tried—for that pull was far too strong for even his willpower. 

He had suspicions. Suspicions of a golden thread that started in his chest and ended in yours. He knew it was far fetched, knew he was only hurting himself by entertaining the complete insanity of the idea. 

You were human. Mortal. And mortals didn’t have mates. He told himself so every day, and right after, like clockwork, he countered his own sound advice with the one thing that had been troubling him the most.

Because what mortal could plant and bloom a patch of tulips with nothing more than a thought and a touch. What mortal could speak so clearly to the earth and create life right before another’s eyes. 

Despite the possible threat that could pose for his court and his family, Azriel had kept that tidbit of information to himself. Just for now. Just until he could make sense of it. Then, and only then, would he bring that information to light. 

Because Azriel did not feel any ounce of danger or ill intent from you. He did not feel anything but warmth and intrigue and that godforsaken sensation when you grew excitable over something. 

He couldn’t take that from you. Not when you were finally coming out of your shell, finally talking and laughing and going as far as joining him and Cassian for training twice a week. 

“If sex makes you uncomfortable, there are other romance novels without that.”

Heat warmed your skin again. Shadows dared to intertwine with your fingers. 

“No, it’s not that.” You played with his shadows, allowing them to caress your skin. “Sex doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I’ve just never had a good enough experience to understand much.”

He didn’t push, didn’t ask further questions. You wouldn’t be embarrassed for this, for something that was not your fault. You wouldn’t cower anymore, hide what you felt or thought. No longer would there be repercussions for speaking your mind. 

So you spoke again. 

“Rafe was the only person I’d ever…it’s just different to read it, to have it described as something enjoyable.”

Azriel’s knuckles turned white. Something enjoyable. He’d never experienced it to be anything but. His soul almost cleaved in two at the thought of what you’d endured. 

Azriel dared to glance at you again. “Sex with the right person can be very enjoyable. It should be nothing but beautiful.”

He stiffened then, blood thumping in his ears. His shadows stilled, noticing the shift in your scent just as their master had. Sweet, all consuming arousal, and Azriel did not miss the way your thighs pressed together in impulse. 

He swallowed thickly. 

You broke his gaze, your own heart thumping sporadically as you stared at the pages on your lap. You couldn’t help your mind wandering to thoughts of him, of experiencing that with him. You knew it was wrong. So, so wrong. 

“The thought of being intimate like that with someone new…” You couldn’t find the words to express the fear and anxiety that came with that thought.

Azriel listened intently, breathing deeply. 

“I want to experience life the way it should be experienced. Not the way others have pushed it upon me.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his book on his knee. “You control your life now, nobody else. If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.”

You wondered then if he could see into your mind as Rhysand could. If he could feel that shift in the air. If he could smell it on you. That want and desire. You would not apologise for it. Not anymore. 

“But if it feels wrong, is that not my guts way of warning me?” You countered. 

Azriel smiled, just barely. His knuckles still white. “It’s your guts way of protecting you. Because you’ve never experienced anything beyond what others bestowed upon you.”

Gods above. 

An ache fluttered in your chest, just above your breast and you absentmindedly rubbed at it, disrupting the neckline of your shirt. Azriel’s eyes squinted at the exposed skin, at the mark that adored your flesh. 

“Are you hurt?” His tone was primal, protective. 

You paused your movements, following his gaze. “Oh, no.” You pulled your shirt a little lower. “Just a birthmark.”

He needed to compose himself, needed to stop allowing his mind to wander about other areas of your concealed skin. He felt like nothing more than a big brute. 

Your soft, airy giggle woke him from his daze and he looked over to find tendrils of darkness caressing any inch of your skin that they could. Gods, if he didn’t have a leash on his emotions around you, how could he control his damned shadows. 

“It’s like they have a mind of their own.”

They didn’t. But he couldn’t correct you. Not without exposing the fact that they only fed off their masters emotions and desires. Not without exposing the fact that Azriel wished he was the one touching your skin and not his shadows. 

He swallowed again, throat dry. 

“Nesta told me that they’re an extension of yourself. That they only act if you will it.” You didn’t know why you said it, why you thought you had the right to speak that truth. 

But you would not apologise, even as Azriel remained silent for a few moments. Partly out of shock, partly in awe. But that was another thing he would not speak aloud. 

“Sometimes they can act on behalf of my emotions. My desires and wants.”

You dared to meet his honey eyes. “And that’s what you want?” You were breathless, a feeling in your stomach that you’d never once experienced before. “You want to touch me?” 

Neither of you knew where this confidence had come from, but Azriel did not question it and you did not apologise. 

He shouldn’t say it, shouldn’t repeat the words that echoed in his mind and soul and body. But, Gods…he could not seem to regain any semblance of control when he stared into your eyes. He could not lie to you, could not hide what he felt. 

“I want to do a lot of things.” The admittance was barely audible, nothing more than a breath he’d been holding but you heard it all the same. As though you’d demanded the words out of him. 

You couldn’t look away, even if you tried. Your entire being was encapsulated by him. Your chest heaved, legs ached. The shadows slowly left your shoulders and neck, returning to their previous position at your fingers. 

“But above all, I want you to be comfortable. Happy.” 

Something compelled you to stand, the shadows seemingly guiding you to their master as your book toppled to the couch. He watched with a hungry gaze, one full of faltering self-control. 

If you want something, despite how wrong that desire may feel at first, take it.

Take it. 

Take it. 

“I’m comfortable with you.” 

The shadows moved like a breeze between you both, tugging you closer and closer. Nothing else mattered, not in that moment. Not when your soul felt like it was singing, like it was exactly where it longed to be. 

Azriel stood slowly, towering above you once at his full height. You strained your neck to meet his gaze and he bent his to come closer. You could feel his breath dance with yours, could feel his hard chest press upon your soft one. 

No part of you felt nervous, no part of you felt unworthy. 

But Azriel…he didn’t know what to do. For weeks he’d been dreaming of this moment, dreaming of the taste of your lips, the touch of your skin. He slowly raised a scarred hand to caress your warm cheek, and you didn’t cower or shy away from his touch. 

A test, perhaps. To see if you really could handle the intimacy of another male so soon after what you’d endured. You didn’t falter, didn’t break his gaze. He wanted you, more than he ever wanted anything else before. 

“What you went through…”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you cut him off. “That was then, this is now. I don’t want to live in the past.”

Take it.

Take it. 

Your lips…so close to touching his. 

The shadows swirled in delight, excitement.

Azriel knew this wouldn’t be just a kiss. This wouldn’t be meaningless. He felt it, in every part of him, he felt the way your entire being sang to his. He wanted to lay his soul bare before you. 

He itched to brush your hair behind your ear, to hold you and taste you. But Rhysand’s voice echoed through his mind, beckoning him for his assistance. He closed his eyes, huffed out a breath.

“Rhys is calling for me.” 

Azriel stepped away, removed his palm from your skin. You swallowed, stepping back and letting your eyes fixate on the rug beneath your feet. He cleared his throat, struggling to reign in those shadows of his. 

“I’ll come to you tonight…we can talk then.”

But had Azriel waited just a few moments longer, had he given into the urge to brush your hair from your face, he would’ve noticed the slight point that had formed at the top of your ears. 

Azriel didn’t meet you in your chambers that night. And you didn’t see him the next morning. Or the day after that. 

Cassian had mentioned that Rhys sent him on a mission. That he would be back in a few days. 

But something was wrong, you could feel it in every inch of your body. An ache that only got worse with every passing moment. You tried to ignore it, tried to relax in a hot bath with soothing lavender oils. Nothing relieved the pain. Nothing soothed the ache.

And when you left your bathroom and found your once round ears now pointed, and a trail of tulips following in your wake, your legs carried you toward the kitchen before you had a moment to consider it. Cassian and Nesta sat at the table, giggling over their breakfast when you stumbled toward them. 

“What’s happening?” Your panicked tone caught their attention, eyes wide as they stood and took in what lay before them. 

From the stone ground, moss and grass and flowers bloomed as though you stood in the middle of a field. Daisies and buttercups sprouted in your hair, roots of trees tangling around your limbs. 

Everything was so loud yet muffled. Like every word was screamed in your ear but somehow underwater as Cassian called out frantically to Rhysand. Neither of them went near you, even when Rhys flew through the open balcony doors, Feyre in tow. 

They looked at you with nothing less than concern and fear. 

“What in the Gods is happening to me?!” You demanded. 

Rhysand held Feyre back as she attempted to near you, his gaze locked on you as he assessed the situation. But it wasn’t the flowers or grass or roots that he watched. It was you, and the way your crescent-moon birthmark glowed something violet. 

Rhys had known, had suspected something lay dormant within you. From that moment he entered your mind, when he gazed upon that luscious field that seemed to call to you with promises of something new. 

He’d never witnessed such before. Not in the most powerful of Fae had he ever stumbled across that. 

With a very careful step forward, his gaze demanded yours. Feyre had told him of your mother, of her death and your marriage to Rafe. And his voice was soft when he finally asked the question that had been on his mind ever since. 

“What happened the night your mother died?” 

The world went still, cold. Feyre whirled to him in protest. 

“Rhys—“

“—it was a house fire.” 

All eyes turned to you, to the patches of bloom that haltered their growth. 

Rhysand took another step closer. “Where were you?” 

“I—“

A heat unlike any other licked at your skin, waking you from your peaceful slumber. A heat so unwelcomed that you bolted upright in a sheen of your own sweat. 

You could hear the wood of your cottage crackling under a burning flame, and smoke quickly infiltrated your room. You coughed, attempting to swat it away as you squinted in the darkness. 

“Mama!?” You called out, panic stricken in your voice and body. 

Fear began to cripple you, began to take away any sense of self preservation. You couldn’t leave your bed. Your door now engulfed in flames, you screamed. 

“Help! Someone, please help!”

No one was coming. This was the end. You couldn’t move, couldn’t get to your beloved mother. A shrill cry, unlike anything you’d ever heard before, split your heart in two. 

A scream of pure agony and fear tore through your throat, your eyes clenched shut as you gave your body over to the fire. 

Only the next breath you breathed was clean and cold. And your sheets were no longer beneath you, no. Now you laid on the rich soil outside of your home, your fingers rooting themselves into the dirt. 

You screamed and sobbed, unable to do anything but watch as the fire claimed your home and your mother. 

You were sobbing, collapsed to the ground as you struggled to breathe at the memory. 

Rhysand dared another step closer, kneeling before you now and his eyes held such sorrow, such remorse. 

“Y/N…” he spoke softly. “Was your mother ever accused of being a witch?” 

Nesta seethed, threatening. “Rhysand, that’s—“

“How do you know that?” Everything felt very, very still. No one should have known that. No one of these lands should have known that. 

Rhys didn’t answer your question. And despite the sound of large wings breezing through the sky, you did not look away from the High Lord. Not even as Azriel rushed into the House and his heart sunk at what he bore. 

“The day I entered your mind and took some of your pain away, I felt something. Something within you that I have never, in my 500 years of life, felt before.”

Azriel took a step closer. He should have said something when he first noticed the flowers. Because now, whatever power you had…it was consuming you. 

“I’d like to try something,” Rhysand proposed. 

You struggled to keep your breathing even. “What is it?” 

Another step closer, a warm hand on yours. 

“I’d like to enter your mind as far back as it will allow me. Just to see if I can find something.”

Violet eyes watched yours. “Find what?”

He squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Something to make sense of this.”

A moment of pause, to take in your surroundings. The flowers and soil had sprouted to cover the entire expanse of the lounge floor, your friends and cousins standing just beyond the brush of it. 

Eyes flickered to something hazel. Azriel. He stood in the soil, flora coating his ankles and he struggled to keep a tight leash on the shadows that fought to reach you. 

You looked back at Rhysand. 

“Will it hurt?” 

He shook his head. “No, not if you don’t resist.” 

That suddenly sounded an awful lot like your past. Memories of Rafe pinning you to the bed—scolding, reprimanding, promising no pain if you didn’t resist. 

This wasn’t like that, you had to remind yourself. You were safe. They only wanted to help. To understand. 

Azriel stepped closer, ignoring the silent warning that Rhysand whispered into his mind. A scarred hand out held, you took it. And Rhysand took that moment of distraction to enter your mind. 

The first memory he saw was one from just days before. You and Azriel reading in the library, the shadows that swirled your fingers and arms, the near-kiss that escalated into nothing. 

He dug deeper. The next, of you and Azriel again, exploring the city where you left a trail of green and brown tulips in your wake on the embankment of the river. 

Deeper and deeper, until the memories showed you living in the mortal lands. A blow to the face, to your stomach and your head. Rafe seething above you as he shouted and belittled you. 

Deeper, to a memory of your husband pinning you to the mattress, of his body crushing yours as he stole everything you never offered. 

Every memory Rhysand met, you re-lived them. 

A little deeper and he was watching you at the Archeron household, helping Elain plant seeds, watching Feyre paint, reading with Nesta. 

Deeper and deeper he went, passing the memories of the fire, of your mother, until he found exactly what he was looking for. 

“She is my child too, Selenthia. You cannot keep her from me.” A voice you did not recognise. A memory you did not recall. 

“For her protection, I will do what I must.” Selenthia seethed, coddling you closer to her chest. “No one can know what she is, or she’ll be hunted for the rest of her life.”

The unknown male huffed. He was beautiful. Tall and lean, strong and commanding. But there was something about him. Something not quite right. 

“So you plan to lock her away for the rest of her life?”

Selenthia bared her teeth. “I would never lock my child away. She will live her life as a mortal. I won’t subject her to a life like mine or yours.”

A moment of silence. “You cannot hide her from what she is.” He spoke softer now, edging close to peer at you, his daughter. 

“What do you plan to do when she first bleeds? When her ears point and her power grows—“

“That won’t happen.” There was no room for discussion in Selenthia’s voice. She placed a finger over your heart, a familiar violet glow permitting from her skin to yours. 

“What are you doing?” That male’s voice, cold once more. 

“I’m burying her power. So long as this wyrd remains on her skin, she’ll be safe.”

Selenthia pulled away, just enough to take a look at the mark that marred your skin. A mark two shades darker than the rest of your flesh, the shape of a crescent moon and no larger than a fingernail. 

“There. Nothing more than a birthmark.”

Rhysand retreaded from your mind, panting and shaking. Tears streamed down his flushed face, your own skin staining with silver, too. 

“What is it?” Nesta demanded, daring a step closer. 

But those tulips and daisies and buttercups…the soil and grass and roots, they all began to sink into the ground until nothing but the florals in your hair remained. 

“My mother…she…she was a witch. A healing earth witch. And my father—he…”

“Your father was Fae.” Azriel breathed, his eyes focused on the point of your ears that peeked through your hair and flowers.

“He was of the Night Court. A High Fae male.” Rhysand added gravely. 

Azriel’s hold on the shadows loosened and he allowed them to caress you, comfort you. Your hand never left his. 

You pulled away from Rhysand, clutching at your chest—at that crescent moon you always thought was a birthmark. Your mothers protection all along. 

“When you crossed the wall into the Fae lands, your power tried to break through. It was your mothers mark that had been keeping it buried with you all these years.” 

You dared a look at your cousins. But they looked at you with nothing but sorrow and anguish. No fear. They did not fear you, they did not pity you. In their eyes all you could see was longing. A longing for you to no longer live in such agony and hardships. 

“Our mothers were sisters. Does that mean—“

“I don’t think so,” Rhysand cut you off. “If they held the magic you do, I believe their power would have shown by now. They were Made. So it’s possible the Cauldron could’ve interfered with it if that were the case.” 

It was too much. All of it. Reliving those memories again, seeing your father… You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t have magic and powers. You could not be half Fae, half witch. 

It would be easy to give up. It would be so easy to ignore it until it killed you. So easy to just let go of everything. But a pounding in your soul begged you not to. Begged you to fight with everything you had. Begged you to live. 

“Burn the mark.” 

All attention snapped to you, flickering from your face to the mark on your chest that finally stopped glowing. 

“Are you insane?” Nesta seethed. 

You looked at her. “I don’t think I’d be far off to guess that if I don’t burn this mark, this…power will consume me entirely. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be so lost because I have no idea who I am. This is who I am, whether I like it or not. I won’t run anymore.”

Feyre stepped closer, crouching to your level and taking your spare hand in hers. Azriel still held tight to the other. “If you wish to burn it, it will unleash whatever power you have at full force. You don’t have any training, any control over it.” 

You felt sick to your stomach. “I don’t want to die, Fey.” 

And that was enough to enrage Feyre in a way she’d never once felt before. “You are not going to die. Do you understand me?”

Azriel squeezed your hand, begging for you to look at him. You couldn’t. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him looking at you any different than he had three days ago. 

“Rhys, fetch Madja. We will burn the mark in a controlled environment. Where any fallout can be contained.”

You shook your head, not willing to risk a single soul because of your selfish decision to live. 

“No,” you said. “Drop me to the mountains and I’ll burn it myself.”

Nesta scoffed. “Oh, you are insane.”

You seethed at her. The first ounce of anger you’d truly shown. The first time you’d ever directed it at anyone but yourself. 

“This isn’t your decision. I will not risk anyone. Azriel can take me to the mountains and you can all keep your distance. At least until it’s safe.”

Until it’s safe. As if you knew for certain you’d survive it. You truly weren’t sure you would. There was nothing more to discuss, your tone made that clear enough. 

“Fly me, winnow me…whatever. Just do it now before I change my mind.”

Within a blink, your body was shivering and you were no longer in the House of Wind. Shadows encased your entire body, darkness swarming every inch of you. You said nothing as Azriel held you, nothing at all as he flew you across Velaris and toward the highest mountain just outside of the city. 

Only when he landed, when he refused to remove his hold from you, did the darkness dissipate and hazel eyes gazed into yours. 

“I’m staying with you.” 

“No, you’re not. I won’t risk your life, Azriel.” 

He set you to your feet, holding your hands now to keep you close. A plea of desperation swam in his eyes, his entire body yearning to take you and find another way to fix this. 

“There is no other option. If I don’t burn this mark, I don’t know what my power might do. It might kill me, it might destroy this city. I cannot risk anyone’s life for mine.”

Azriel parted his lips to speak but you shook your head, squeezing his hands. 

“If I don’t survive this—“

“Don’t.”

“Please, listen to me.” Silver lined your eyes, blurring your vision. “If I don’t survive this, I want you to know how special your friendship has been to me. How much I care for you, for your family.” A sob tore through your throat. “And I am so incredibly sorry for burdening you all in this way.” 

You reached on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips to his. Warmth and love and the most raw emotion could be felt between you both. An apology for not having longer, a prayer that there would still be time. 

A fuse lit within the pit of your stomach, in the pit of Azriel’s. Tears stained your lips, stained his. In that moment, you were one. Whole, as though you always should have been. 

You pulled away first, forcing your hands from his hold. You took several steps back, blinking through the distorted vision and swiping away and evidence of the fear that crippled you. 

A puff of violet darkness misted beside Azriel as Rhysand winnowed to the mountains. Pain flicked through his eyes, regret and the same sorrow you saw in your cousins. 

You did not meet his gaze. 

“Summon a fire.”

He did as you asked. And handed you a blade. 

You did not grant them another look, did not give into the pleading in your mind to watch them leave. Or else you would’ve seen Rhysand drag Azriel off that mountain. You would’ve seen the anguish on the Shadowsingers face. 

Alone. As you had been your whole life. Though the weeks spent in Velaris had given you a taste of what could’ve been. You’d treasure those memories in the Hereafter. Those and the precious ones of your late mother. 

For they were all you had left. 

You did not allow another tear to fall. Not as you hovered the blade over the flame, not as you tugged your shirt down and took a deep breath. 

For if all you were ever meant to be was a ghost in the wind, you were content to know you’d reunite with your mother soon. Where you would no longer feel such pain. 

You didn’t want to die. But if this was all the time you were fated to have, then so be it. Better you than someone else. 

“Keep them safe.” A whisper to the winds, if they deigned to listen. 

With a final breath, you pressed the scorching blade against the mark on your skin and the entirety of your captive power unleashed upon the mountain as your body allowed it to consume you. Until you saw and heard and felt nothing at all. 

From below, the city shook, a thundering boom and a gust of aftershock and pelting mountain debris that blew the Inner Circle back. 

Then there was silence. 

And Azriel’s soul bellowed. 

A/N: so a LOT happened in this chapter and there is still a lot more to happen, I'm hoping I can fit it into two parts but it may be stretched into three, we'll have to see!! I'm so grateful for all the love you guys have been giving this series and I am so excited for you to find out how it all ends!!

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

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[pomegranatesarchive]

dogsitter

pairing. charles leclerc x female!reader

summary. after finding a raccoon in his penthouse, charles ropes the owner of said raccoon into being leo’s dogsitter. then, he falls in love with her.

warning. fluff, kisses, slight jealous charles? reader can’t swim, reader owns a raccoon, no use of ‘yn’ let me know if i missed anything!

─────

“No! Leo, come back! Don’t touch it!” Charles yelled out in horror from his spot behind the kitchen counter. Leo paid him no mind, barking happily at what he thinks is a new friend. His new friend in question pays him no mind, sitting on his bottom and happily munching on the banana peel, Charles had no doubt he had taken from his trashcan. 

A million thoughts were running through Charles’s head, the main one being ‘Where the actual fuck did this raccoon come from. And why is it in my house?’ “Leo, no!” he tried once more, as he saw his precious dog get closer and closer to the trash-eating raccoon. Leo was way too friendly, Charles realized at the moment. 

Charles paced back and forth, thankfully the raccoon seemed friendly, not paying much attention to Leo, but he still needed to get it out…without touching it. He didnt know much about raccoons, but the one thing he did know, was that they carried diseases, lots of them. 

Hearing a knock on his door, Charles paused his pacing, running over to the door, while simultaneously trying to keep his eyes on the trash eater. Opening the door, Charles stepped back in confusion. This was not someone he recognized. This was a woman, a pretty woman, but a stranger nonetheless.

The second the door opened the woman perked up, giving him a small smile, “Hi!” she beamed, Charles paused, so much was happening at one time, and he had no idea what to do first. Talk to the pretty woman? Save Leo from the raccoon that seemed to spawn in his house? Who was he kidding, Leo loved that raccoon, what he meant was; Save himself from the raccoon that seemed to spawn in his house? 

“Any chance you have seen the most adorable raccoon around-” She paused, staring into his apartment, “Nibbles!” she cheered, inviting herself into his apartment. Charles paused for. moment, adorable raccoon? Nibbles?

He turned into his apartment, seeing the strange woman coddling the trash eater into her arms, babying him. He stormed over to Leo, who was clawing at the strange woman’s legs, scoping him into his arms and coddling him tightly into his chest.

Charles frowned, taking a small step back, you were coddling the trash eater into your arms like he was your child, “It's yours?” he managed out, judgment dripping from his words.

You looked up at him with a frown, “Not it. She.” you were very firm, continuing to pet the raccoon with a hand, “Yes, Nibbles is mine.” you didn't give another glance as you focused your attention back to the animal.  

‘’Like…a pet?” Charles placed Leo down onto the hardwood floors, now comfortable letting him roam around while you had the trash eater in your arms. You looked up at him, mouth open, before you slowly closed it, squinting your eyes at the man, while slowly, letting the raccoon out of your arms. 

“I know you from somewhere.” You stated simply, squinting your eyes harder, and stepping closer. Charles swallowed thickly, looking around the room awkwardly, refusing eye contact. "I don't think we've met…before.” he tried, but you didn't let up. 

Instead, you pulled out your phone, putting it up to his face, “What are you doing?!” Charles swiped at the camera, stepping back. You frowned, shoving the camera closer to his face, “I’m using the Google photo thing! Stay still!” reluctantly, Charles stood frozen, staring up at the camera with a glare. 

Pulling your phone back, you held it up to your face, walking over to the couch before plopping down with a sigh. “Hm…” you pursed your lips, “Charles Leclerc…” you read off the phone, hearing Charles sit beside you with a small sigh. “Oh!” you turned to him in excitement, “You’re the Ferrari driver!” 

Charles nodded happily, opening his mouth to reply, but you cut him off, “You were the reason I couldn’t sleep that day you won here.” You glared at him, and he shrunk back, “This whole city was up partying.” you huffed, placing your phone down, before reaching down and patting the trash eater’s head. 

Leo barked happily, jumping between you and the raccoon, Charles watched you as you hesitantly reached over to pet the dog, as if scared. You owned a raccoon, but were scared of dogs? “It was a big day,” Charles replied softly, his eyes on your arms, which were petting Leo, oh so delicately. Getting flashbacks of his home win, which took place just a couple weeks ago.

You looked up at him with a smile, “Yeah, I guess so.” you looked down at Leo, who was softly biting your fingers, Nibbles was at your feet, munching on her banana peel, without a care in the world. “It’s cute,” you comment, petting Leo’s head. “He.” Charles corrected. 

“So it’s..” you turned to him sharply, he rushed to correct himself, “She, sorry, she’s your pet?” 

You smiled down at the raccoon, who now seemed to be entertaining itself with Leo, who was sniffing around it. “Yeah,” you whispered, before getting up with a small groan. Charles followed your steps, picking up Leo when you picked up Nibbles. “Well it was nice to meet you, Charles,” you called over your shoulder, as you made your way to the door, Charles right behind you, “Sorry that Nibbles snuck over. We’ll get going now.” 

Charles panicked, watching you make your way to the door, “Do you have a job?” What was he doing? 

You paused, eyeing him confused, your parents were well off, you didn’t necessarily need a job, it would be nice to have one, but it wasn't one of your top priorities “No?” 

Charles looked around the room awkwardly before his eyes landed on Leo, bingo. “Would you like one?” 

You shifted with Nibbles in your arms, eyeing him suspiciously, “Depends.” You really hope he wouldn't ask you to do something…weird, he seemed like a nice guy, and he would probably be a good neighbor. 

“You could babysit Leo for me. Or it is dogsitting?.. He's more like my child than a pet. But I travel a lot so..” his rambling faded off into the background as you glanced between Nibbles and Leo. The two seemed to get along well, and by well you mean Nibbles didn't care for the dog, and the dog seemed to love Nibbles. 

Taking care of a dog for Thee Charles Leclerc would look great on a future resume.

“...You don't have to answer right away, you could sleep on it! Or take however much time you'd like.” Charles awkwardly swayed from side to side, cradling Leo in his arms. 

You snapped your head up at him, “I’ll do it.” You declared bluntly, before turning back to the door, “I’ll come over tomorrow, and we can talk more.” were your final words before you exited.  

Charles stood staring at the door, tilting his head slightly, “She's pretty.” He talked down to Leo, who barked in agreement. “Very pretty…” 

.  .  . 

“Leo, you have to promise you'll be a good boy,” you mumbled to the wagging dog as you placed the harness on its weiner-shaped body. “Nibbles has only been on a plane once, so you have to be the big boy in this situation.” 

It has been two weeks since you started your new job, and you loved it. You loved Leo, him quickly the number two pet in your heart, and you've taken a liking to Charles as well, become more like friends than anything else, and he's started bringing you souvenirs from each of the countries he's been to, which made you swoon without a doubt. 

A whole three days into your job, fans all over the world found out about your existence, and within two hours, they found out everything you needed to know about you. Including your old embarrassing Instagram videos where you thought you were a professional dancer. Charles thought those videos were funny, you did not. Of course, you got your hate, but it was buried under all the love you and Nibbles got. The world seemed to love Nibbles. So much that the account you had made for her years ago, tripled in followers within a few hours. 

You, Nibbles, and Leo now had an established routine. When Charles was away, Leo would sleep at your penthouse, sleeping by your side, while Nibbles slept in her own tiny bed, then you three would wake up at the crack of dawn and watch the free practice, qualifying, and the race. You’ve never been a big Formula One fan, but you watched for Charles. 

When Charles was at home, you two would spend most of the nights watching movies or playing online games together. With Leo and Nibbles right by your sides. 

The two pets had gotten considerably closer, Nibbles now returning Leo's great affection. Now finding the two apart was rare. 

“And Nibbles,” you turned to the raccoon, who was laying on her back, “You need to be brave. We won't be on the plane with other people, but still,” you shrugged, “I don't want you to get the nervous poops..” you mumbles as an afterthought. 

Your phone lights up with a call from none other than Charles. You grin as you pick up, “Yellow?” yes you were that person. 

Charles giggled like he always did when picking up the phone, “Hi,” he said your name softly, “I 

just wanted to check in, everything ready?” 

“Yup!” you answered, “Leo and Nibbles are packed and ready to go!” Go where exactly? Hungary, where you (along with Leo and Nibbles) will be watching Charles’s race. He had a bad last couple of races, so when he asked to and I quote “bring the kids to Hungary” You felt too bad to say no. 

“And what about you.” he hummed, “Are you packed and ready to go?”

“I’ve been packed since yesterday.” you always hated being anything less than prepared when traveling. Although you would be traveling by private jet (courtesy of Charles) it didnt ease your nerves. Traveling with Nibbles was hard enough, and this would be your first time traveling with Leo. You hoped he was a clam flyer like Charles claimed. 

Charles laughed, “The driver should be there in about..five minutes.” 

“And they know about Nibbles right?” you couldn’t count how many times you asked taxis if they allowed pets, only for them to refuse you service when you entered with Nibbles. 

“Yes, they know about Nibbles,” Charles reassured you through the phone, he had grown quite accustomed to the trash eater, he found that Nibbles acted quite like Max, which made her even more likable to the Ferrari driver. 

Speaking of, Charles looked up from the ground to see Max walking over to him with a grin, “I have to go now, okay?” he spoke into the phone, “Call me if anything happens.” after a few seconds he hung up, pocketing his phone with a huge smile. A smile that dropped as soon as he looked up to see Max. 

Max tilted his head at the slightly shorter man, teasingly smiling, “Why don’t you ask her out already?” Max leaned against the wall, rolling his eyes at Charles’s confusion. 

“Who?” Charles questioned.

The second Max said your name, Charles started spluttering, looking around the Ferrari lounge in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?” Charles felt his cheeks heat up, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of you. 

“I mean.” Max rolled his eyes, “You obviously like her-” he squinted his eyes at the face Charles pulled, “Don’t make that face.” Charles pulled another face, “Please Charles, you talk about her all the time, always mentioning how pretty she is-” 

“She is very pretty!” 

“And you very clearly like her!” 

The two childhood friends stared at each other. Max didnt understand why Charles couldn’t just accept his feelings. He talked about you like you hung the moon and the stars. He talked about you all day, every day. At first, everyone thought it was cute, but then it started to get annoying. Not because he talked about, but because he talked about, without realizing that he was in love with you. Everyone saw it, except him. 

“I personally think you should worry about your love life.” Charles shrugged, “When was the last time you went on a date–or had a girlfriend?” 

Max gasped, he really wanted to go there? “You’re right Charles.” he turned away, “Maybe I’ll ask her out,” he paused dramatically, before starting to walk away. 

But he didnt get far, because before he knew it, Charles was in front of him stopping him from moving, all traces of amusement gone. “Don’t.” he glared. 

Max faltered, sighing, “Admit you like her.” 

Charles frowned, this was not how he wanted to come to terms with his feelings, “I might, possibly? like her.” he pursed his lips, Max took a good look at him before patting him on the shoulder, sympathy written across his face. “Tell her, take her on a date. Before someone else does..” and with that he walked off. 

Charles wiped his hands across his face, sitting down on the red velvet chair with a sigh, Max’s words echoing through his head. Before someone else does. The thought alone of you going on a date with another person made him sick to his stomach. He groaned, clutching his head, images of you kissing someone else involuntary flashed through his hand. 

This was not how it was supposed to go. You and Charles were supposed to be friends, boss, and employee who just happened to get along very well. Thats it. 

But then you, and your stupid fucking smile. Your stupid fucking laugh. Your stupid fucking face. And your stupid fucking raccoon that Charles was now definitely attached to. He had to ask you out. He wanted to ask you out. But he didnt want to ruin what you already had. You quickly become one of his closest friends. He told you things he wouldn’t even tell his brothers. And he didnt want that to end. 

But it didnt seem like he had a choice anymore. He could either lose you because he was a coward who never confessed his feelings, so you fell in love with someone else, or he could lose you because he did confess his liking towards you, and you didn’t reciprocate that liking. 

He just hoped if you didnt like him and decided to quit out of awkwardness, you would still let him see Nibbles. 

.  .  . 

Charles had gotten fourth, nowhere close as he wanted to be, but it was an improvement.  He was full of nerves as he walked up into Ferrair’s hospitality. He couldn’t see you that morning before he left as it was early in the morning and he didnt want to wake you up. 

Waling into the large room, Charles instantly spotted you, sitting on the ground, laughing at Leo who was rolling around in a knitting blanket, one Charles didn’t recognize. 

Looking up, you made eye contact with Charles, with a smile you ran over to him, wrapping him in a tight hug, “That race was so…” you struggled, burying your head into his shoulder. 

He pulled back with a smile, taking a good look at your pretty face, “Interesting?” he helped, tilting his head. 

You nodded vigorously, “Let’s go with that! But you did so good!” 

Charles smiled bashfully walking over to Nibbles, who was lying on her back without a care in the world. He pulled up the unfamiliar blanket laughing loudly at the design. It seemed to be handmade, knitted. It was beautiful, designed to have Leo and Nibbles hugging on the front. 

“It’s so cool, right?” You bounced over to him, “A fan gave it to me this morning, i offered her some money because that looks like it took so much time to make, but she kept saying no-” 

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

Silence. 

Charles looked up with his bright red cheeks, you stood frozen, mouth open, staring at him with soulless eyes. Shit, you were going to say no. 

Oh god, you were going to say no. You’re going to quit your job and Charles is never going to see you or Nibbles ever again. Oh my god, he’s never going to see Nibbles again. 

“Can I bring Nibbles with me?” 

That–That was not what Charles was expecting. He blinked, 

“Only if I can take Leo.”

.  .  .

“I’m scared Leo.” Charles stared down at Leo, who didnt give him so much as a glance before we walked over to the edge of the boat. “You’re no help,” Charles called after him, shaking his head. 

The boat looked beautiful if Charles did say so himself, it had flower petals scattered around, fairy lights shining, and in the middle was a small fort of blankets and pillows. 

Hearing footsteps coming towards him, Charles sent a small prayer to whoever was listening, before turning and waiting for you to walk up. 

Hopping on the boat, you slowly walked over to the open area, holding Nibbles tightly. You spotted Charles frozen in the middle, you took in everything around, it was beautiful. 

At the sight of Leo, Nibbles started squirming in her arms, wanting to be put down. You granted her, her request, slowly placing her down onto the ground. She instantly crawled over to Leo.

You and Charles stared at each other silently, slowly taking each other in. “You..” Charles started, “You look beautiful.” he took your hand, leading you over to the fort of blankets. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking a seat on the pillows. It was beautiful out, the sun was on the verge of setting, and it was a surprisingly quiet day out in the city, so instead of the bustling you would usually hear, it was the soft rustling of the waves.

“We’re not going out in the water are we?” you turned to him with wide eyes, “Because I don’t exactly know how to swim.” 

Charles snapped his head towards you with a mixture of disbelief and offense, “You… can’t swim?”

“Not exactly.” 

“You’re twenty-four,” Charles stated, his eyes squinted. 

“Your point?” you bite into a strawberry he so gracefully handed to you. 

“You’re twenty-four and can’t swim,” he stated once more, handing a strawberry to Nibbles, who had wobbled her way over to you two after she saw you eating food. 

“My dad’s like ancient and he can’t swim.” you tried to defend yourself. 

“So it runs in the family?” Charles giggled, rubbing Nibble’s stomach, as she lay on her back. 

You watched them with a smile, it was clear Charles had gotten accustomed to Nibbles, the same way you had with Leo, who had crawled into your lap with a small sigh. 

“On the next date, I’ll teach you to swim,” he told you, now cradling Nibbles in his arms. 

“Next date?” you teased, raising a brow. He instantly became flustered, stuttering over his words. “I mean–if you want? I want. I really want to, but if you don’t want to then that’s okay too! You don’t have-” 

“I want to.” you laughed, reassuring him, placing a comforting hand on his knee. He froze, his eyes bulging at the sight of your hand on his knee. God, what were you doing to him? A simple hand was on the knee and he was turning bright red. 

Awkwardly you slowly started to remove your hand, mistaking his silence for dislike. Quickly, his hand darted out, softly grabbing yours before placing it back on his knee. 

Comfortable silence took over, both cheekily and secretly smiling to yourselves. 

.  .  .

“Thank you for the date tonight.” Charles stood in front of you, while you had your back to your apartment door. It was now late at night, and after hours of talking, you both were ready for some much-needed rest. You two had just dropped off Leo in Charles’s apartment, and you had just let Nibbles into yours. 

“I think I’m supposed to be the one saying that.” you giggled, leaning against the wall with a tired smile. 

Charles shrugged, clearly staring down at your lips, “Well I really enjoyed it, so.” 

You two stood silently, tension so thick, you could cut through it with a knife. You wanted Charles to kiss you, god, that was what you’ve been wanting all night. But you knew he wasn’t going to until you told him. 

Still, you gave him a chance to make the first move, so you both stood there in silence for three minutes, blatantly staring at each other in silence. One more minute and you were sure you were going to fall asleep. So you pushed your pride aside, “You can kiss me-” 

And in less than a second, his lips were on yours. His lips were warm and soft, just like you imagined. You melted into the kiss, it was certainly the best you’ve ever had. 

He pulled away too quickly for your liking, “Can I sleep over?” he mumbled with a smile, you giggled nodding your head, before you opened your door, gesturing inside. 

He eagerly started to make his way inside, only to pause in the doorway, looking up at you in horror, “I have to go get Leo!” he yelled as he ran into the hallway, “You and Nibbles wait for me!” he yelled back as he got further in further away.

You laughed loudly as you watched him go.

Yeah, you totally picked the right guy. 

notes: can you guys tell i have no idea what happens on a date… anyways! this is a whole 3.5k and that’s the most i’ve ever written so hooray!! this is been in my drafts for soooo long and i’m so happy i finally finished it

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

[luveline]

can I request something where Spencer is already with and married to y/n and the rest of the team has never known about her and one day they find out he’s married when she meets the team for the first time coming to bring him lunch maybe and the team is just taken aback after all the teasing they used to do to him because y/n is just so beautiful and flirty and they weren’t expecting any of it? And Spencer is just like “yeah I did that 👀😌💅🏼”

thank you for requesting !! hope this is okay, fem!reader

“I have something I need to tell you.” 

Derek looks up from his desk with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t like the sounds of that.” 

“I know you’re going to blow it out of proportion,” Spencer says, adjusting the strap of his watch where it lays over his sweater sleeve. “So I think I should tell you about it before she gets here with my lunch.” 

Derek leans back in his chair and tosses the clipboard he’s ticking through into a pile of outgoings. “I’ll bite. ‘She’?”

Spencer holds his hands clasped in front of himself, looking cagey. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I wanted to tell the whole team, but it happened so quickly, and then I got it in my head that everyone would be mad at me or make fun of me and I didn’t want to deal with it so I didn’t tell you, and now it’s been a year and I kind of want to brag.” He ducks his head, scratches his neck, and refuses to meet Derek’s eye. “I wanted to tell you.” 

“Reid, man, what are you talking about?” Derek feels himself soften. “I’m not mad at you, pretty boy. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“She’s over there,” Spencer says, pointing.

Derek follows his friend’s hand to you. You’re a lovely thing to look at because you’re smiling like you’ve never been happier, and you’re dressed in a simple, elegant sort of style that gives you a timeless feel, like you could’ve been in a romantic movie in the 50’s or just got back from walking the shiny streets of Paris. You aren’t his type at first glance, but you could be, the way you’re looking at him. 

“Derek Morgan,” you say as you approach, your little black purse slipping down your shoulder, “I can’t believe it’s you.” 

“You’ll have to forgive me, sweetheart, do I know you?” Derek asks. 

You give Spencer a loving, sorry look. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Sorry! I tried, but you know. I was nervous and I kind of chickened out when you got here.” 

You shift the white plastic bag you’re holding in two hands to the crook of one arm and beckon him into your side. “It’s fine,” you say, leaning upward to kiss his pale cheek, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I like introducing myself, you know that already.” You give him a last friendly pat before removing yourself, your hand just close enough to brush against his as you offer your name. “I’m Spencer’s wife,” you add. 

Derek laughs, the low first chuckle of disbelief. Spencer’s watching him carefully, and he thinks, oh, maybe she’s not kidding. “His wife.” 

“Yes,” you say, taking Spencer’s shoulder into your hand. You don’t seem to notice that he’s a good few inches taller than you. “And I’m so happy to meet you, you know? I’ve heard so much about you, about everyone! I realise we waited too long. S’gonna make sending you the registry pretty awkward.”

Spencer laughs. You look at him like he’s put the sun in the sky. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I understand.” 

You turn your hand to show Derek the gold wedding band on your marriage finger. “For a year, almost.” 

There’s just no way. 

Derek watches in quiet shock as Emily and Hotch descend the steps into the bullpen. “Hi,” Emily says, plainly confused. 

“Hi,” you say, deferring to Spencer with an encouraging glance.

Spencer puts his arm behind your shoulder, and Derek realises loverboy isn’t lying after all. The way he touches you is too familiar, speaking to a longstanding sort of love. His thumb immediately rubs gentle semi-circles into the fabric of your cardigan, circles you likely can’t even feel. “This is Y/N, she’s… my wife. We got married.” 

“And didn’t invite us,” Derek says. 

“You what?” Emily asks, head snapping to the side. 

Hotch is smiling at you. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

“You knew?” Emily asks. 

“It altered his health insurance,” Hotch says nonchalantly, stepping forward to shake your hand. 

“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Hotchner.” Your eyes are sparkling. Derek can understand why Spencer’s married you from that look alone; you look overjoyed to be here, and to be speaking to them. “And you too, Emily. I've heard amazing things about all of you.” 

“Wait a minute, when did this happen? Wha–” Emily shakes her head. “I feel like I’m on reality television.” 

You turn to Spencer again, your eyes following up his cheek, a caress of a gaze as you begin to tell the story, “Well, we met by accident by at Christmas market on Cassidy square trying to buy stamps for cards, so that was sort of our first date a year and two months ago, but we didn’t get married until February, so a year.” 

“You got married after two months?” Emily asks, saving Derek the breath but not the sentiment. 

You don’t so much as wince, nor does Spencer. “It might’ve been unfair to her for me to rush things, but it didn’t feel like rushing at the time,” Spencer says surely. 

Derek knows that Hotch would’ve mentioned you months ago if you were nefarious. You certainly don’t seem nefarious, melting under Spencer’s touching, your almost frantic excitement to be meeting them quelled to a softer happiness. 

“Do you have any photos?” Emily asks.

It’s Spencer who moves for his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He flicks it open and pulls a photo from the clear window, unfolding it to reveal a shiny six by four of the two of you outside of a courthouse. Your dress is white and silk, his tuxedo made to fit. You both look amazing, but better, you look so, so happy. 

“This is the weirdest prank ever,” Emily says. 

You lay your cheek against his shoulder. “I’m the luckiest girl in the world.” 

Spencer shuffles through a hundred shades of pink. Derek struggles to wrap his head around it, but he can’t wait to tell Penelope. 

[wonysugar]

g!p sugar mommy giselle🫦🫦🫦

g!p.... sugar mommy...... giselle..... ANON. holds you by the neck dearly thank you for this. also! it’s barely even mentioned at all but just know giselle is like 37ish and reader is in her mid-twenties. :]

cw : age-gap!

giselle as the sugar mommy you randomly met on your day to day minimum wage job at a fast food place MHMMM LET ME COOKKK..... having her be a regular who always comes in like once a week, always wearing something super fancy.. like a black prada trenchcoat or sometimes even a dolce & gabbana blazer. point is, she immediately stuck out like a sore thumb among the rest of the crowd.

plus, you found her undeniably gorgeous as soon as you laid eyes on her, so it's not like she'd go unnoticed otherwise, either.

she often approached you at the register and made small talk, as stupid as it often was. she'd find some stupid excuse not to use the self checkout machine and would find a lame conversation starter while you're watching her pull out a dior purse, proceeding with the payment of her order. that often lead to you asking her questions of your own.

"why do you eat here? you look like you have other.... better places to be eating at."

she'd chuckle at your words, finding them amusing, before answering in a gentle tone, "trust me, i do. my niece doesn't seem to think the same way i do, however, as she seems to really like this place. i appear to be the only one indulging her."

soon enough, you'd warm up to her with each visit of hers and the conversations would get much, much longer. so much so that, often times, your manager would have to step in and remind you to get back to work prompty. it got annoying quickly, as the conversations were just getting good; chatting about studies, travel plans, ambitions and goals, etc.

so, wanting to have these incredibly interesting exchanges in a more comfortable and relaxed setting, aeri asked for your number.

naturally.

who cares that she was like, ten years older than you. it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend… right?

numerous nights of friendly-texting-turned-flirty later, you two quickly agreed on a set date and location, which turned out to be a friday evening spent in the very expensive restaurant right across the block from your workplace. it was a date! she informed you to come in 'appropriate' attire, whatever that meant. how would you know? your closet consisted of hoodies, sweaters and some t-shirts as well as your work uniform. that being said, you showed up to the date wearing a low cut dark blue dress you found laying around in the darkest depths of your drawer for probably more than seven years. saying you were nervous would be nothing but a huge understatement.

she, on the other hand, came wearing a creamy white turtleneck under the black trench-coat she was usually seen wearing when ordering food at your job, the look topped off by wide legged black pants and really expensive looking black leather heels.

what the fuck are you doing.

getting cold feet, you nervously sat down at the table and bowed your head in her direction. intimidated by the light yet impacting amount of makeup she had on her face, you avoided eye contact as much as possible. she was breathtaking.

she told you to choose whatever you’d like on the menu and to not look at the price, as she insisted you not to worry at all about the bill. you, of course, felt guilty so you proceeded to pick the least expensive thing on the menu and attempted to convince her that you genuinely loved the dish, hence why you’d pick it among everything else.

who were you kidding though, you couldn’t even pronounce whatever fuckass french name it was that you picked to the waiter. she smiled at you as you finished ordering, making you turn red in embarrassment.

“you know y/n, i couldn’t bring myself to mention it in a place as unflattering as your workplace, no offence,” she started as you shook off the statement, practically agreeing with her before she continued, “but i must say that i think you are absolutely adorable.”

it gets to a point. and at this point you’re just short-circuiting at her words and intense eye contact, finding it difficult to even act properly in front of her!

she noticed that, of course, especially in times during the conversation where she called you endearing names such as “darling”, “love” and “honey”.

that wasn’t much different in bed, either.

as it turns out, you really did want her to fuck you at the end of the night! honestly, how could you not when she’d been opening every single door for you, insisting on paying for the entirety of the bill at the restaurant and offering to drive you home despite it only being a 10 minute walk?

she’d done nothing but drive you crazy all evening with her sexy and gentle manners, it’s only natural you gave her a sloppy handjob whilst she drove her grey lexus lx back to her own house with the pure intention of fucking the shit out of you.

…and she did! very well, at that!

two of her fingers deep into you, she circled your clit with her thumb and left gentle kisses on your jaw down to your collarbone. slow and steady pumps of the digits, she thrived in hearing your soft whimpers.

that didn’t last long, however. she was getting impatient, and her dick was aching to feel you.

ass up face down, you’re getting pounded relentlessly into the mattress before you know it. getting treated like nothing but a queen all night only to be later fucked like a depraved slut… it had to be the best thing you’d ever felt in a while. of course, you let her know of that with guttural moans that left your body with each thrust of her cock. she didn’t care, her house was big enough to muffle your screams, after all.

she whispered obscenities into your ear whilst you did so, gripping a fistful of your hair and humming at each sound that came out of your mouth. talking about how tight your cunt was for her, about how good it felt, how she couldn’t wait to use it every other day, about how she would kill to take care of a pretty little thing like you.

gripping onto your sides and ramming into you shamelessly as she drove you to your climax, you bit your lip until you felt like it was bleeding. her breathier heavier and each of her moans slightly higher than the previous, you both orgasmed together, a wave of euphoria washing over the two of you immediately.

oh and, you know what she said about ‘taking care of a pretty little thing like you?’ yeah, she meant every word.

soon enough, she’s taking you on dates every other weekend, referring you to a slightly better paying, less agonizing job thanks to the connections she possesses, sending you excessive amounts of money she labels as your ‘monthly allowance’ and overall spoiling you with whatever your heart desires. hell. she even payed your university tuition! she finds it endearing to see you always so shy and embarrassed to accept the money she gives you; you always go on about how ‘you don’t give her anything back’ and how it isn’t fair.

but to her, you do give back. your happiness and joy is what aeri does it for, and you give her great amounts of that. not only that, but you also give back by whoring yourself out and looking pretty for her. giving her unwarranted boners by sending her risky pictures and videos while she’s at work, having you wear the lingerie she buys you, knowing you use the toys she got you whenever she’s too busy to take care of you, etc. aeri could name nothing better than having you be the beautiful doll she gets to play with every now and then. :]

[tanpl-if]

In the summer of 1986 you get a letter informing you of your mother's death.

The first and only letter you get in ten years since you left your hometown.

You stand in the middle of the old, tiny room that you can barely afford to rent and read it over and over again until the buzz at the back of your head quiets down. Until your hands stop shaking.

You think of what it means for you.

I hope you arrive soon. You know Marrowbone will always have a place for you.

The words spin in your head and you think of Marrowbone then—a secret, lonely place, standing at the edge of everything, surrounded by forests and fields, barely acknowledged on the maps.

But it is home.

And whether you like it or not, you are coming back.

There are no people left is an 18+ horror inerractive fiction game for language, themes and potential explicit content

• romance one of the 5 ROs or choose a platonic route

• choose between 3 preset personalities for MC that will open different paths in the story and exclusive scenes

• reconnect with your old friends and make new connections

• explore your hometown

• remember why you left

DEMO: (09.03.25)

Olya - Aside from working the bar left to her care by her parents, she isn't up to much of anything, the days passing by her seamlessly. You watch her work - pale fingers gripping the glass she is cleaning a bit too tight, lips pressed into a frown - and think how much she has changed since you last saw her.

She looks older. More tired too, but more than anything angry. With life perhaps. With you - for sure. The tension hangs between you, threads through every conversation, follows with every touch.

A decade of silence will do that, you think, almost guilty. You wonder if there was ever a chance of putting the fragile pieces back into place.

You wonder if the only thing left for you is to mourn.

Timur - Head held low, he keeps to himself most of the time. You remember him a sickly thing - his parents never letting him out to play, hiding him away in fear for his poor health. You remember sneaking into his room - muted laughter and hushed whispers, when you kept him company.

The memories taste bitter now, after all those years.

He seems more shut off now, and as much as you expected him to forget you, you're even more surprised when he gives you the same smile that reminds you of a sweet little boy that used to be your neighbor.

In the midst of half-forgotten faces and unwelcome memories, he still feels the same as when you were kids.

You're not sure if it brings you comfort or not.

The Doctor - He does his work well, and that's what matters, the doctor says, not in the most friendly fashion.

His face is lined with age, gray temples vivid among the black, as he runs his fingers through his hair, looking at another report with pursed lips and tired eyes.

You don't remember seeing him before, a hard thing to achieve for one of the few doctors of Marrowbone - a surprise and a revelation at the same time.

You know he is local, and your mind burns with questions. You can't imagine anyone in their right mind coming back here if they ever managed to leave - not by choice anyway - but you hold your tongue. It's not your place to intrude.

And it's definitely not your place to judge.

The Gravekeeper - As frail as she appears to be, she manages to be just as cheerful.

The keeper's granddaughter spends her days taking care of the dead - keeping them company, she says - the hem of her dress brushing against gray stone, as she moves around, steps light.

She is all sweet smiles when she talks to you, dimples catching your eye. And though you never saw her before, there is Marrowbone etched into her in a way you can't explain - dark eyes and a knowing pull of her lips - there is no doubt she has always been a part of this town.

The Widow - There is a rumor about her, almost a tale, nurtured by years of boredom from the residents of small town - not much to do in Marrowbone aside from gossiping about your neighbors - about a woman on the hill, lonesome in her manor, a number of husbands lying dead in the small graveyard in front of her home. About a woman always wearing black, forever in mourning. Some believe her cursed, though a more cynical crowd would call her much meaner names - a gold-digger with an exceptional streak of luck.

A witch.

You see her there, standing at the top of the hill - her dress swaying in the wind, black veil covering her face. And though you can't make out a single detail behind it, somehow you know - her eyes are on you.

Sonya - Your mother. You don't know what happened to her.

asks and scenarios are welcome!

tags: @interact-if

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Independence - (Yandere KaijuNo8 Hoshina x Reader)

nsfw, dubcon, yandere, afab, explicit sex, possessiveness, overstimulation

Where Hoshina has enough of your “independence” antics. 

———————////////———————-//////—————

The quick, rough clacks of heels stomping the ground permeate the otherwise quiet night. You can hear the soft thuds of dance music beating from a distance from the club you were just brought out of. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” You yelp, “That hurts! Let go, will you?”

The man pulling on your hand doesn’t let go, though his grip loosens. 

You groan, frustrated at the chain of the events that just occurred. You were at the club with your girls, mingling it up, when your childhood friend barged in and dragged you out, JUST as you were getting friendly with a man who was exactly your type. 

The cockblocking pisses you off. “Seriously, Soshiro, what’s gotten into you?”

He lets go of your hand, whipping around to face you. 

“What’s gotten inta me? What’s gotten inta you? I’m gone on a mission for a month and then come back to see you hangin’ out with girls you barely know, gettin’ friendly with nasty dudes, at a trashy ass club in the most dangerous part o’ the city!”

“I’m a grown woman, Soshiro. I can do what I want. And I was perfectly safe in there.” 

He ignores your words, pulling at your hand again. “Come on, we’re goin’ home.” You can tell he means business by the tone of his voice. There’s no point in arguing when he gets like this. Sighing, you follow him quietly into the car he had ready. 

Hoshina lets a random radio station play while he drives. The ride home to your apartment is otherwise silent. 

Watching the lights of the city get farther and farther away, you grind your teeth in annoyance. He’s always been like this since you were little. Overly protective and clingy, ESPECIALLY when it came to men trying to get to know you. Growing up, he was always threatening your crushes, getting between you and boys offering their love confessions,  even keeping you away from his sport competitions during highschool. 

“I don’t like the way my teammates look at ya,” He’d say, “It gets in the way of our game.”

Sure, you may have been frail as a kid and that warranted some protecting, but the both of you are now grown, and he still hasn’t let up on his “big brother” antics. It was ruining your love life, and tonight you were going to chew him out once and for all. 

You huff in annoyance, not noticing the way Soshiro practically glares at the cleavage your tight dress reveals through the corner of his eye. 

You two eventually make it home, and you fumble for your keys to open the door. You see Hoshina looking over his shoulder, scanning for any potential threats, and you roll your eyes. Once you unlock the door, you usher you in, and he shuts and locks the door behind him with a ‘click’. 

You throw your purse on the dining table, waltzing over to the fridge to grab a water bottle in hopes you can cool down. Because right now, you want nothing more than to shove Hoshina down a set of stairs.

After taking a sip, you sigh and turn to Hoshina, who has been standing in the living room with his arms crossed, displeased. 

“Soshiro, we need to talk. I’m not a defenseless kid anymore, you can’t keep controlling what I can do or who I can see.” 

“Oh?” He raises a brow, a small pout still on his face. 

“‘Oh’, yes. I’m a grown woman. And I’m tired of you being a cockblock every time I meet a man who seems even remotely interested in me. We’re still in our twenties! I wanna go meet people and have fun before it’s too late. And to be frank? You going on that Defense Force mission for a month has been great for my social life. I’ve been able to hang out with other friends, go on like 2 dates, and just feel free for once.” 

Your expression softens when you see he’s obviously hurt by your words, “I don’t mean to be hurtful, ugh! I just…I want you to understand, I need to live my life.”

Your friend is silent for a minute, and before you can start to get nervous, he says quietly, “I understand.”

“You do?” You perk up, relieved to have finally had this talk with him. 

“Oh yeah, I understand alright.” You don’t like the way he says that. 

He makes way to where you stand, in slow, purposeful steps.

“While I been risking my life to protect this country, you been hoein’ around, is that it?” Hoshina antagonizes, taking a few steps closer as you back pedal. He stops once you’re chest to chest, your back hitting the kitchen walls with a soft thump.

“Really? That’s what you got outta that? You idiot, that’s not it at all, I—“

“Enough with the excuses.” Hand smacking the wall beside your head, he leans down, whispering in your ear. “I think it’s high time you realize who ya belong to.”

He grabs your chin, tilting your face upwards for a searing kiss, your lips colliding. The young man’s warm tongue snakes into your mouth to explore its walls, and you’re so taken aback that you just let him, the sensation leaving your legs feeling a little unsteady.

He takes advantage of your surprise, slinging you over his shoulder with ease, and speed walks to your room. 

Once the two of you reach the door, he swings it open and throws you on the mattress with a “thud”.

“Soshiro, what the fuck!”

“You wanna get with a guy so bad? Fine. But it’s won’t be anyone else ‘sides me.”

He crawls on top of you, planting both hands beside your head as he towers over your form. You gaze up at him, astonished at his words.

“Wait, wait wait — This is all so sudden, I—you—what?”

He growls in frustration, nipping at your neck. The deep rumble of his voice and the sensation of him marking you surprisingly stirs something up in your core. 

“Did ya really never notice how bad I wanted ya since we were teenagers? All this time I been keepin’ you away from anyone else ‘cause I thought you were mine, an’ I wanted ya to stay mine. But here we are, with you thinkin’ just ‘cause you’re grown up that ya can up an’ leave me behind.” You don’t notice until it’s halfway down, but Hoshina is unzipping the side of your strapless dress. 

“Well I got a news flash for ya, sweetheart— 

it ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen like that.” Once he finishes tinkering with the zipper, he pulls your dress off your body, revealing nothing but silicone nipple covers and lace panties too thin to be practical. 

“Who the hell were ya gonna show these off to, huh?” He removes the tiny nipple covers, pushing them off to the side of the bed. 

“N-no one…”

“Liar,” Your childhood friend is not gentle with your panties. He yanks them off you with a harsh snap of its strings. “No one can see you like this but me.”

He eyes your naked body hungrily, but you can tell he’s not happy. Only now do you understand that it’s not because he’s been worried for you—he’s mad because it’s not him you’re dressing scantily for. 

“Fuck…you’re gorgeous. I’m gonna show ya who this body was made for.”

The soldier places a cold hand on your bare pussy, slowly stroking your slit, pulling the folds open and closed in a way that has you choking back a moan. 

In no time, your opening grows moist. Hoshina smiles coyly when notices his fingers are coated with your juices. “Already so wet for me, ain’tcha? 

The pace of his strokes eventually picks up, and when he opts instead to rub your clit in a circular motion, you can no longer hold back your voice. 

You want to deny it, but it feels good. Really good. The feeling of his touch clouds your mind, and logic is thrown out the window. As unwise as it may be, and as weird as it is to be doing this with your life-long friend, your body convinces you it’ll be fine to let whatever happen, happen. 

He smirks at your reaction, pleased to see you release the tension in your body, relaxing under his touch. “That’s it, sweet. Lemme hear more of those pretty moans.”

And let him you do. He rubs your clit at an unyielding pace, and when you start squirming involuntarily, one of his sinewy 

arms clamps down on your thigh, holding it in place. 

“Ah, ah, ah. No closing your legs,” He chides.

“F-fuck, but I’m-ah-gonna come!”

You can feel yourself reach the tipping point, mind going blank. You look your friend in the eyes, and the way that he stares at you so reverently, intensely, is what makes you reach that edge. 

“Come for me then, baby.” That was the only encouragement you need, because that has  you climaxing with rushing vigor, cunt spasming and pulsing in waves. Tears of pleasure begin to emerge at the corners of your eyes, and you breathe a sigh of contentment. 

Happy with himself, the young man barrels his mouth into yours, refusing to separate until the both of you are gasping for air. You use a hand to tug at his hair hoping it’ll make him pull back, but he doesn’t relent, instead grunting a moan. Only when you start pushing on his chest does he separate from you. 

“Sorry,” He barely sounds sorry, you think, “Ya just taste so damn good.”

With a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth and yours, he moves down to latch onto one of your breasts. 

A warm appendage flicks across your nipple, shooting pleasure down into your core. You didn’t know your tits could ever feel this good. When he proceeds to bite and suckle, you’re washed with a sensation that has you swearing you feel yourself melting away. 

Hoshina laps at your other hardened areola, teasing the former with the pinch of his fingers. 

But then a thought crosses his mind. “Ya haven’t done this with anyone else before, right?” He mumbles, face nestled between your breasts. 

You don’t answer, and he stops what he’s doing, much to your body’s chagrin.

He removes himself from your chest. His hand squeezes your other breast a little tightly, and when he looms over you, he’s dripping with malice. “Right?” 

“Ugh,” You’re embarrassed to admit it, refusing to look him in the eye, “Right. I-I’ve never done anything with anyone before.” 

And you aren’t lying. Hoshina’s always done a damn good job at keeping all potential lovers at bay. You’ve never even kissed another man before. 

That settles his nerves. “Good girl.” He kisses your collarbone. 

“If you did, I woulda made you confess which fella it was with and kill him.” He says that so nonchalantly, you worry it’s true. “You don’t belong to anyone but me, got it, sweet thing? You’re mine.”

The possessiveness should scare you, but it doesn’t. In fact, his claims spur on your arousal. When one of his hands warningly wraps around your throat, a shiver runs down your spine. “Say it,” He demands with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “You’re mine.” 

“I-I’m yours, Shiro.” As he hears you call him by that stupidly intimate childhood nickname, he feels his cock ache. 

“That’s a good gal.” He releases his grip on you, moving to take off his clothes. “I missed you so much during my mission, ya know that? Stayed up late thinkin’ of ya.” 

He unzips and removes his jacket. 

“Yeah?” You inquire, not sure where he’s going with this conversation. 

“Yeah. Stayed up thinkin’ ‘bout how good you’d feel under me. Thought about my cock deep inside ya, right. Here.” He places a hand below your belly button, pressing deep. “Remembered how sexy you looked in that tiny ass swimsuit last summer, and wished I was back at the beach with you again, this time fucking you stupid. Thought about how good you’d sound moaning my name while your tight cunt milks me dry, and that everyone around would know who it is you belong to.”

Fuck, since when was your friend so good with dirty talk? You’ve never heard him so vulgar in your life. The thought of being wanted so badly makes your heart ache, and you feel yourself turning red. 

“Daww,” Hoshina coos, “Is someone blushing?” He licks his lips, eyeing you like a tiger would eye a plump rabbit, and you gulp. “Fuck, that’s cute. You’re adorable.”

With his clothes fully removed and tossed to the side, you take in the sight of his body. He’s not a giant of a man, although toned muscles decorate his limbs in a way that make him look bigger than you’d expect. 

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s quite the looker. What you’re most concerned with though is how large his member is. It’s hard, veiny and obviously protruding. You gulp nervously, suddenly self conscious of your lack of love-making experience.

Before you can overthink things, the soldier takes the lead. He gives his shaft a stroke and moves your hand to wrap around his dick, getting you to stroke him in a slow, easy motion. 

You see his body tremble under your touch, and he lets out a deep sigh, like he’s relieved after holding back for so long. 

“Fuuuuuck, yer hands feel so soft. Just like I always imagined.”

You stroke his thick member a few more times, admiring how sensitive his body was under your touch. 

“Good girl. Just like that baby, yeah. Fuck, you make it hard to hold back.”

The praises do something to you, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him. 

But just as quick as Soshiro was to praise you, he was quick to flip you onto all fours, and with a yelp your eyes stare at nothing but the bedpost. 

You don’t even have time to realize what’s going on when you feel Hoshina’s thick head invade your wet hole, stuffing you full as you feel the pressure inside your body build. 

“Oh gawwwwwd,” You moan, never having felt such a sensation before. 

It’s so overwhelming, taking you by surprise—you immediately crawl forward to move away, only to be aggressively held by the hips and yanked back into your starting position.

“Don’t you dare fucking run away,” The soldier warns dangerously, “I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think about anythin’ else but my cock.”

And fuck you he does. His pace is merciless, thick member pounding in and out of your pussy until your legs are a quivering mess. Your senses are heightened, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth as you feel every veiny inch of his cock stuff you completely. It’s too fucking much.

“Too much, Shiro,” You beg with a sob, “I need a minute.”

“You’ll take all that I give ya, when I give it to ya.” And you yelp as he plants a slap on your asscheek.

“Fuck. The way that ass bounces from my dick is so hot.”

A finger slips into your asshole, gently sliding in and out. If it was overstimulating before, now it’s too much all at once. 

“Please,” You plead in between moans. “It’s so much, Shiro. Gawd, I- I can’t!”

“Oh yes you can,” He admonishes, “And you will.” 

Another hard slap lands on your ass. “Apologize for trying to abandon me.”

Your mind and body now fully under the influence of lust, you do whatever he tells you. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry for abandoning you!”

“You like it in both holes, don’tcha? Slut.”

“Yes yes yes, I like it in both holes! It feels so good being stuffed in both holes!”

“And who do you belong to?”

“You, Shiro! Just you!”

His chuckling is low and deep, sending waves of pleasure down your spine. 

“Good girl. My good fucking girl.”

He lurches forward, and your arms and legs give out from underneath you. Laying flat on your stomach, Soshiro’s weight keeps you from moving even an inch. In this position, with him on top of you as he grips your breasts, your friend’s cock buries in you even deeper than before. He humps into you without remorse, and once he moves a hand to your mouth, you instinctively suckle on his fingers.

He moans at the sensation, groaning under your touch. The perversion of the whole scenario drives him wild.

“Fuck, did I tell you yer really tight?” He says through gritted teeth. “Can’t keep this up much longer.”

Now it’s your turn to tell him what to do. 

“Cum for me, Shiro. I need you to cum!”

He laughs at your audacity, gripping you tighter. 

“Oh yeah?” He grunts with a smirk, hot breath against your ear. “And where does my girly want me to cum, huh?”

It’s risky, but fuck it. You’re so horny you can barely think straight. “I-inside me!”

Your request gets him going, making him thrust even faster, harder than you thought was possible. 

“Fuck, girly, gonna cum!”

The feeling of his cum filling you up also is your tipping point, and you cry out as your final orgasm is ripped out of you. 

“Shiiiiiiit,” Soshiro whimpers, slowing his piston-ing down until your pussy finally milks every last drop of semen from him.

He slowly pulls out, and you feel suddenly empty once his dick is no longer inside you. 

With a quick flip, he’s on his back, arms spread out, staring at the ceiling with much thought. 

You roll over to look at him.

“So,” You break the silence, “Does that, uh, I should consider you my boyfriend now?”

He gives you a look.

“Depends. You wanna be kidnapped and locked inside a basement against yer will?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then yes, we’re datin’ now.” 

“Oh! Uh. Okay.”

—-////——//////————

That concludes my fanfic, folks! Sorry it took so long to make. I was struggling a lot with writer’s block and some life events that were outside of my control, but I’m here! And alive!

Honestly, what made me finish this story was seeing that the yandere tag on Tumblr was lackin’ in writing as of late, heheh. Anyways thanks for stopping by! Until next time!

[chleem]

Not a big deal pt3

miniseries; basketball player drew x high scl student reader

Summary: You lose your virginity to a random guy at a frat party miles away from your home. A few days later, you find out that he’s your brother’s competitor, for the regional colleges’ basketball tournament. 

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: cursing, age gap (18 & 24), protected sex (read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work

♡⸝⸝ bit long but enjoy! | p2 | index | p4

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

4 years later

“Drew, Drew Starkey.”

The waiter checks his name off the list, and gestures inside, “follow me then, Mr Starkey.”

Drew follows the waiter in, looking around the place. Hawks rented the entire restaurant for the night, just like every year, to celebrate the new season. It's his third season with Hawks, so he knew the procedures well enough now. 

Tonight will just be free food, bonding with teammates, etc. Could you say he was looking forward to it? No. He would much rather stay home, especially this year. 

Why especially this year? Because of his new teammate, Luke. 

It wasn’t hatred or anything; in fact, they had amazing chemistry on the court. Communicating through nods or glances, as if they’ve known each other for forever. Really, the coach was shocked at how good they did during preseason; he’s now convinced there’s a chance of winning. 

Luke seems to have matured, anger issues not the same as before and actually willing to listen to advice. He was friendly towards Drew, and overall, did not look so bothered about losing the championship during college anymore. 

It was Drew who felt uncomfortable around him. Why? Well, he fucked his virgin sister, who was 18 at the time. Worse, whenever Drew stares at Luke for too long, he sees your face. Your eyes, nose, lips, everything. 

“Nice suit, man,” one of Drew’s teammates and best friend, Jay, compliments him, as the two approach each other first. Every year it was required to wear formal for this occasion, since high executives would be here to celebrate too. Drew, has worn the same black suit for the third time now. 

“Yeah, same with you,” Drew smiles, the two of them engaging in a small hug. “Um, are we seated together?”

“Yeah, over there,” Jay points over to a table near the window. Each table had a maximum of six people, and already two of their teammates were there. “Man, we should some drinks first.”

“No need to remind me,” Drew replies, as the two of them head to the bar area. The goal is to get drunk enough so that the executive's’ speeches would sound interesting, but sober enough to make basic human interactions.

“So, you came alone this year too?” Jay asks, ordering a whiskey, which Drew also signals for. 

Drew smiles sourly, his friend reminding him about his single status again. Plenty of hookups throughout the years, but never a proper girlfriend due to his busy schedule. “Y’know me. Too busy for that shit.”

Jay nods, as the whiskeys are presented in front of them. Drew immediately downs his, while Jay just takes a small sip. “Well, I’m seeing someone, if you’re wondering.”

“No shit,” Drew laughs, thinking his friend is kidding. Jay smiles down at his drink, probably thinking about the girl. Oh. He really is seeing someone. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“Her name’s Phoebe.”

“…and?”

“Yeah. That’s all I’m telling you.”

Drew shakes his head, ordering another whiskey. So much for being friends. “She has a sister, by the way,” Jay speaks up. Oh. Drew knew where this was going. “She might be the perfect one for you.”

Jay’s setting him up. Again. His friend has failed every single time, and it seems like he wasn’t gonna give up. “Hey man,” Drew pats Jay’s shoulder, pursing his lips. “Just quit, okay? I don’t date. Y’know that.”

“When’s the last time you’ve dated then? Have you ever even had a girlfriend?”

Drew frowns, taking his hand off his friend. “Just, no. Please.”

Drew hears a sigh from beside him, and when his second whiskey arrives, he sips on it slowly. “Fine. I just think, that you would be very happy in a relationship.”

Drew smiles against his cup, finding that statement ridiculous. Society was weird, thinking that if one stays single for too long, it meant that they were…depressed in some way. It was tiring. 

“Hey, Luke’s here,” Jay suddenly comments. Drew turns around, scanning the place for Luke. 

Sure enough, there he was. 

And fucking hell.  

His eyes land on you, standing beside Luke. 

Was it even you? He wasn’t so sure. From far away, it did look like you. 

“We should go greet him,” Jay elbows Drew. 

Drew did not want to greet him. He is very comfortable here, right next to the bar. 

But Jay urges him, leaving him no choice but to walk over. And until Drew was standing directly in front of Luke, was he sure that it was you. 

Fuck. 

Four years later, and Drew’s body still has reaction towards seeing you. It brings him back to the first night he laid eyes on you, thinking how innocent & pretty you looked in a crowd of drunk and chaotic college students. 

You look…amazing. Drew was pretty sure his eyes were widened to the maximum point right now, his brain trying to process the sight of you. Especially, the red dress you were wearing, that's making his imaginations run wild. 

No. He must be dreaming right now. After four years, he sees you again? No, this shit only happens in movies, red-string type shit. Was he getting drunk already?

“Um, Drew, you okay?”

Drew quickly averts his gaze back to Luke, his grip on his glass cup tightening. “Yeah, yeah, um, who’s this?” Does he sound cool right now? Because he wasn’t so sure if he was playing his usual chill self. 

Luke wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Meet my sister. Y/n. Y/n, this is Drew and Jay. My teammates.”

Shit. So it is you. The girl that Drew can’t seem to forget, the girl that haunts his wildest fantasies for four years now. 

When Drew makes eye contact with you, he expects you to have some sort of reaction. But you don’t. In fact, you just quickly glanced at him, a polite smile on your lips. Do you even remember him? “Nice to meet you,” your voice causes Drew to freeze yet again, his mind going back to that night. Your moans, your laugh, your-

“Dude,” Jay elbows Drew yet again. “Aren’t you going to shake her hand?”

It seems like you already shook Jay’s hand, and it's Drew’s turn now. 

He licks his lips embarrassingly, and he shakes your hand. Yep. No doubt it was you. He remembers clearly about the way you scratched his back that night, the tug of your hands in his hair, and your fingertips on his abs-

“Um, kind of need my hand back,” your voice cuts him out of his thoughts. 

Oh. He was still holding your hand. He retreats it reluctantly, feeling his ears heat up. Gosh, why is he so flustered right now? He feels the stares of Luke, or more, like glares. “So…where are we seated?” Luke asks. 

“Near the window.”

“Great. Um, we’re not late, are we?”

“No one really cares.”

Luke and Jay continue to engage in small talk, whereas Drew just gives up on listening. Not just give up, he literally was unable to engage in anything right now. It feels like he's in a dream.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you, absolutely captivated by you. By this matured, attractive presence you gave off. You were just standing there, trying to appear interested in this small talk. 

And a question he kept repeating in his head was: do you remember him, like how he remembers you? Do you still think about him from time to time, like he does about you?

You definitely can feel Drew’s stare, his stare making you feel as if you were under a microscope right now. You turn and meet his eyes, and he panics, yet again. 

Your eyes tell nothing, of whether or not you remember him. And the small smile you give him confirms it; you forgot about who he was. Fuck. Now Drew felt like the biggest fool to exist. 

“If everyone could get back to their seats! The food will arrive shortly,” the host announces through a loud microphone. 

“Let’s go then, I’m starving,” Luke squeezes your shoulders, to get you moving. 

“Same,” you look away from Drew, and let Luke guide you over to your table. 

Drew immediately gulps the rest of his whiskey down, loosening up his tie. Fuck. This was going to be a long night. 

——

Drew wasn’t one to eavesdrop. In fact, he hated eavesdroppers. Why are you listening on someone else’s private conversation?

Well, Drew hates himself very much right now. 

You sat near the window, at the very end of the table. Across from you was Drew’s other teammate, Kirk. He sat next to Kirk, and across from Luke. The whole night, it was very obvious that Kirk had a thing for you, asking you questions about your life, hobbies, etc.

So now, Drew knew that you’re currently studying law in college, you hate tomatoes but love ketchup, you like museums, you have a horrible sleep schedule, you want to adopt a cat, you hate the cold-

“You’re single, right?”

That makes Drew choke on his food, causing the table to pause and stare at him. He coughs, feeling his whole face going red. “You okay, dude?” Kirk chuckles, patting Drew’s back, as if it’s any help. 

Drew nods, trying to suppress his coughs with the help of water. While drinking, he glances at you, who looks at him with worried eyes. He puts his cup back down, clearing his throat, “so, are you?” 

He ignores the skeptical stares from Luke, his eyes only focused on you. Please, please, say yes. 

You turn away from Drew, just as Luke suddenly speaks up, changing the topic, “can we get another round of this lobster? Its fucking delicious.”

What? Drew’s gaze stays on you, seeing how you bite down on your bottom lip, eyes glued to your plate. Was it, a violating question? Drew had no idea, but seeing how quickly your mood changes, it leaves a bad scar on him. 

——

Huh. you’re staying at the same hotel as him. Well, not just him. The entire team, actually. Luke must have arranged it for you. 

Drew stands behind you, hands in pockets, trying to look as if he wasn’t bursting with joy. While waiting for the elevator, you lean on Luke’s shoulder, your body ready to give up. 

The elevator opens, and the remaining people all squeeze towards it. 

You eventually get squeezed into the corner, with Drew close by. Super close by. With no space at all, Drew is forced to lean into you, his arm against the wall to support him.

This close proximity was driving him insane. 

He feels your breast press closely to his lower chest, your face planted really close to his neck. From this proximity, he certainly can smell your perfume, shampoo, everything. He looks down at you; and surprisingly, you were already staring up at him. You send him a lazy smile, your eyes squinted up at him. 

Cute. He sends you one too, although his smile might be bigger. 

The ding sound is heard, and most of the people inside rush out. Drew was disappointed; he wanted to stay like this for a bit longer. 

He gets himself off of you, now that there’s more space in the elevator, leaning against the wall. He wants to look at you (he already stared a lot during dinner though), memorize more of you before he goes to bed, but Luke turns around and faces you. Drew bites his lip, staring into the ceiling. “Told you tonight was fun, right?”

Okay, now Drew needed to eavesdrop. 

“The guy in front of me was asking too much.”

Yes. Fireworks went off in Drew’s head. “Yeah, Kirk’s a dick. Don’t, don’t date him,” Luke…jokes? Drew wasn’t sure. “Or, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it,” you chuckle, which makes Drew glance at you. He makes sure to get a quick look of your smile again; fast enough so Luke doesn’t notice. 

“Do you at least feel better now?”

“…yeah.”

“…I know you’re lying, y/n,” Luke disappointedly says.  

No reply heard from you; the ding of the elevator ending the conversation. Drew looks at the screen; the 18th floor. “Goodnight,” you say to Luke, pushing yourself off the wall. To Drew’s surprise, you wave at him. “Goodnight,” you repeat, the same lazy smile on your face. 

“Goodnight,” Drew replies, the smile appearing on its own.

The door closes after you leave, and Drew gets hit with a sad realization; he might never see you again. And he hates that thought. 

Four years. After four years, he gets another chance to see you. And he’s just gonna let you walk away? Just like he did the first time? 

He gets mad suddenly; remembering the lack of interactions the two of you had the entire night, all stolen by Kirk. Luke’s right, Kirk’s a dick. But also, a lucky bastard. He got to sit directly across from you, as well as talk to you. Lucky son of a bitch. 

“Are you… gonna get out?”

Drew snaps out of it, looking up at the elevator screen. 24th floor. Luke is holding the door open for him, wondering why he hasn’t stepped out. “Sorry,” Drew murmurs, walking out. Luke follows him, as the two of them had rooms right next to each other. 

“You okay, man?” Luke laughs, walking beside Drew.

“Yeah, just drank a bit much,” Drew shrugs, scratching the side of his face. 

Luke gets to his room first, “see you tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” Drew takes his room card out, pressing it against the door. He gets in without another look at Luke, closing the door behind him. 

Huh. So this is how tonight was going to end? Him alone in his hotel room, consumed with the thought of you? (As if he hasn’t been thinking about you for the past four years already) Even Drew was disappointed in himself. 

“Fuck,” he curses, still standing in the entrance of his room, running his hands through his hair stressfully. “Fuck.”

—— 

After knocking on 17 doors, this one might be yours.

Drew stood at the entrance of his room contemplating for ten minutes, whether or not to go see you again. After long chains of thoughts and scenarios, he made up his mind: he’s going to see you.

Problem: he didn’t know your room number. So, he spent almost twenty minutes on the 18th floor, knocking on each door hoping it would be you. 

And now, on room 1818. He was mentally & physically tired, but he wasn’t going to give up.

He presses on the doorbell, twice. He waits for a few seconds that felt like minutes, tapping against the wall impatiently. Just as he gets ready to move onto the next room, the door opens. 

He looks up, and his eyes widen. 

You. You’re as shocked as he is, wondering why someone would knock on your door at such a late hour. 

He first notices your slightly wet hair; droplets dripping down your neck. Your makeup is off, and he just finds you even more beautiful than before. His eyes naturally wander down to your body; finding you in a white lingerie dress. 

Fuck. His brain is malfunctioning yet again.  

“Hello?” He hears you chuckle, which makes him bring his attention back to your face. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, um, Drew. I’m Drew, from earlier, the dinner?”

“…I know. Can I help you?” You ask him yet again, a polite smile on your lips. You quickly glance down at his body; he’s still wearing his suit from earlier. He must’ve not showered yet, despite it being almost two hours after. 

“Um,” he awkwardly licks his lips; All the lines he rehearsed back in his room are now gone. Drew realizes that he’s still standing in the hallway, and he didn’t want to talk to you while standing out here. “Can I, can I come in?”

You furrow your eyebrows, your face clearly showing discomfort. 

He mentally panics, and hurries to add, “I want to talk to you, and it’s rather private. And, important.”

You think about it for a few seconds, listing out the pros & cons of this man coming into your room. You look into his eyes, seeing a sense of urgency and yearning in them. Okay. Maybe he can come in for a while. 

You step out the doorway, opening the door wider. “Sit on the couch, I’ll prepare…tea? Wine?”

“Anything’s fine,” he says, walking in. You close the door behind him, and when he spots your shoes by the door, he takes his off too. 

As he makes himself comfortable on the small couch in front of the bed, you grab your cardigan that rests on one of the dining room chairs, putting it on.

You open the hotel fridge; finding red wine in there. Opening the cupboard, you reach for two glass bottles, and walk towards Drew. He’s taken his suit jacket off, his tie hanging loosely by his neck, his sleeves rolled up. And he’s manspreading, a  position you find to be very hot. 

You have to admit; Drew was attractive. Even more attractive than your ex. Actually, the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. And, he’s got a charming personality to match it. 

But he’s oddly familiar. During the dinner, your gaze can’t help but always drift over to him. Have you seen him from somewhere? Crazy, you can’t seem to remember where you’ve seen him before. An ad? Tv? Huh. 

“So?” You start, sitting beside him. You try opening the bottle, but the cork was screwed on too tight. 

Drew takes it from you; his hands brushing yours. You watch him effortlessly get the cork out, the pop heard in the room. He pours it into the two glasses, and sets it down. He sends you a small smile when he notices your stares. “Wine?”

“Well, you said anything’s fine,” your lips curl up on their own, as you reach for your wine glass. He offers to clink against yours; and you do, the two of you maintaining eye contact while sipping. After, you put your drink back down on the small coffee table. “Why a late night talk?”

Drew licks his lips, glancing down at his lap. He seems to have trouble forming words, fidgeting with his fingers. You lean back into the couch, curious as to what he’s thinking about. 

After seconds that felt like minutes, he said, “You study law?”

Due to the unexpectedness, you chuckle, “yeah. Why?”

He shrugs, “Suits you.”

What is he even saying? “What?” You giggle, at his response. 

You don’t miss the tip of his ears going red; even he thinks his response is funny. “I mean, law sounds fun, and you look like lawyer material.”

“Awesome,” you smile at him, trying to hold back your laughter. “And you look like basketball player material.”

His smile mimics yours; just more awkward. 

He seems to not know what to say, despite telling you that he had something to say to you. Weird. So, you help him, by asking, “are you nervous about the new season?”

His eyes light up, “My third season with Hawks now. But, still nervous.”

“Third season?” He nods, and you reach for your wine yet again. “Hawks fan?”

“Always been the dream,” he admits to you, “grew up watching them, and when they offered, I just had to say yes.”

“Or because no other team offered?”

Shit. That sounded wayyy too rude. But that was your humor, and also your way of talking. Does he find it offensive? Wait, anyone would find that offensive. You should apologize-

He laughs lightly, taking a huge gulp of his wine. “Come on. Give me more credit.”

So…he isn’t offended by your words? You shrug, “never seen you play.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you, leaning back on the couch. “You’re lying.”

“Didn’t even know you until tonight.”

“Liar,” his voice drops low, but a smirk is seen on his lips, as if he’s catching you in a lie right now. But you were being honest; you really didn’t know him until tonight. 

Unless…maybe there’s a reason why he looked so familiar to you? Ugh, why can’t you remember where you’ve seen him from?

“Really,” you say, looking into his blue eyes. 

His eyebrows furrow even deeper, trying to figure out if you were being honest or not. You were. Eventually, he leans forward and pours more wine into his glass. “I believe you,” he murmurs, before sipping on the wine. You watch as he gulps it down; his Adam’s apple moving. “But surely, you’re…a fan of Hawks?”

You shake your head, which makes Drew chuckle. “I…know nothing about basketball.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s my brother’s passion, not mine.”

“Okay,” he adjusts himself on the couch, his body now fully facing you. “Then tell me about law, or stuff like that.”

“‘Stuff like that’?”

“I might bore you if we keep talking about basketball. So, I’ll listen to you.”

“And law isn’t boring to you?”

“Not if you’re talking,” He sends you a warm smile. Woah. Butterflies that you haven’t felt in forever are now forming inside of you. Butterflies that feel different compared to the ones with Zack. “Come on. Tell me. Like, what’s…what new laws have been enforced?”

You laugh; his perception of law is cute. So, that’s exactly what you explain to him, just in simpler terms. His eyes, lips, body tells you that you’ve got his undivided attention; something that makes you smile while talking.

Huh. Weird how this stranger is willing to listen to you yap about laws & everything, as if what you’re saying was as simple was pie. Huh. 

——

“Yes! He said that to me!”

“The audacity,” Drew laughs, making you nod even more. 

You’re telling him the story of your classmate, who’s also your academic rival. Once he accused you of sleeping with the professor, that it’s the only reason why you’ve got such good grades. Thinking about it now, it just sounds funny. “It wasn’t true but he was so sure,” you laugh, recalling his red face while confronting you. 

“He’s a fucking loser,” Drew continues to add, reaching to pour more wine into your glass. The two of you realize that it’s now empty, and you just shrug at him; not really bothered by it. 

You take the chance to glance at the clock; it was two a.m already. The two of you have been talking for more than an hour. You suddenly remembered that Luke told you about an early schedule the team had tomorrow, yet Drew was still sitting here, getting tipsy with you. 

“It’s..getting late,” you bring up, pointing at the clock. 

Drew turns to it, and his eyes widen. But he turns back to you, shrugging. “I guess?”

Is he not getting what you’re hinting at? So, you just tell him, “Luke told me you guys are doing something early tomorrow.”

Drew stares into your eyes, in a way that gets you nervous. But then he looks away, and nods, biting down on his lip. “Um, yeah, totally forgot.”

You smile politely at him, even though deep down you didn’t want him to go. You liked his company, and although it was mostly you talking, he didn't make you feel bad for it. Drew’s…very comforting. 

He grabs his suit jacket, the both of you getting up. “Now I can confidently say, that I know y/n.”

“What?” You smile, wondering what he was saying. You watch as he walks to the doorway, putting his shoes on. 

When he’s done, he opens the door, turning back to you. “A very successful lawyer, that handles cases for the president or something.”

You laugh; that only happens in your dreams. You lean against the doorway, staring into his eyes. You really didn’t want him to go. 

He leans towards you; giving you a hug. His arms wrap around your shoulders, and you hug his waist. Your nose is now filled with the smell of Drew; just like in the elevator earlier, a mix of cologne & alcohol. 

Drew slightly pulls away, just so he could look at you. You do the same, staring up into his eyes, then his lips, then back to his eyes.

He also glances down at your lips, his eyes squinted. 

Then, he kisses your cheek. 

Then, you stand on your toes, planting a light kiss on his cheek too. 

Then, he kisses the corner of your lips. 

Then, you kiss his jawline. 

You look into his eyes, giving him a smitten smile. 

And just like that, Drew couldn’t hold back anymore; he kisses you. The kiss is hungry, passionate, intense, and…

And way too nostalgic for your liking. 

Wait. Wait. 

You pull away from him, feeling a bit overstimulated. Not just from the kiss itself, but…but because of what it reminds you of. 

No fucking way. 

It’s all coming back to you now; this was Drew. The Drew. 

The one you lost you virginity to, the one that didn’t want you.

Wait. Was this even the right Drew? He looks pretty similar to the one you remember, talks similarly, and strangely, also kisses the same. 

“Is something wrong?” His deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

Fuck. No. No, it’s not the same Drew. Because, what are the chances of this being the same Drew that took your virginity? Awfully poetic, if this happens to be the same person. Maybe, Drew is somewhere in West Carolina, coaching for some basketball team. And this Drew, was just some doppelgänger. 

Okay. Yeah, this, this is just a coincidence. You’re just feeling weird because you broke up with Zack a few days ago. Not a big deal. Just, enjoy having this one-night stand with this attractive man. 

You smile, shaking your head. “Just kiss me already,” you murmur, leaning into him. You kiss him lustfully, and he returns it, his hands touching all over you. 

He backs you up into the room again, all while his lips are on you. You giggle at his urgency, the door slamming shut behind him. 

“Don’t you have to get up early?” You giggle, pulling away. 

“I think…it’s not that important,” he throws his suit jacket on the couch, kicks his shoes off, and kisses you again. He kisses you as though it might be the last time he does. 

You pull away, just to push him onto the bed. His head lands on the pillows, and he readjusts himself so his back’s against the headboard. He puts his arms behind his head; and suddenly, you’re hit with the same nostalgic feeling. 

But you ignore that feeling; it’s in the past now. 

He gives you a lazy smirk, as you hover over him, straddling his waist. You can feel his erected cock pressing against your folds. Fuck. 

You lean down and kiss him, a euphoric feeling that you might never get over. Your hands are busy; undoing all his buttons in a messy order. He helps you; slightly sitting up and throwing the shirt to the side. 

Wow. His body? Sculptured by god himself. “Damn,” you voice out, the words just slipping out. Maybe mostly because of how tipsy you were. 

He kisses your collarbone, murmuring, “damn?” There’s a slight chuckle and tease to that, which just makes you smile. Your hands go up to his face, cupping it and forcing him up to stare at you. His eyes…most mesmerizing shade of blue. 

Again, you ignore the nostalgic feeling, that similar look in his eyes that the Drew gave you, four years ago. The similarity is uncanny.

“Such pretty eyes…” he murmurs, sharing the same thoughts you have.

His hands slide your cardigan off, discarding it somewhere else. His eyes go down to your neck, leaning forward and sucking on it. 

Your head leans back in pleasure; his tongue was skilled, you had to admit. He sucks, bites, licks the area, his hands kneading your breasts through the thin material of the lingerie. His lips are warm and soft, compared to the necklace on you. You shamelessly moan out how good it felt; which just drives him crazier. 

Drew’s lips slip lower, sucking on your nipples through the fabric. 

“Shit, Drew…” you moan, your hands slipping down his shoulders, running through his abs, and then to the belt. Your hand brushes his boner; fuck. You want him now, the wetness in your underwear proving it. 

He smirks against your skin, before pulling away. He glances down at your hands tugging his belt, “didn’t know you were the impatient kind.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him back down on his back. “Just shut up,” you groan, even though the smile was apparent on your lips. You back yourself off his waist, until you were on your knees between his legs. You undo his belt as if you’ve done it before, tugging his pants down. 

Holy fuck. You’re salivating at the sight of his dick, fully up and proud. 

You just want to wrap your lips around him, letting him use your mouth to satisfy himself. You palm his length through his boxers, leaning down and planting soft kisses along it. 

He knows you want to give him a blowjob. He can see the thirst in your eyes. He wants it too; but he stops you, his hand going to wrap around your wrist. “Fuck,” he groans, as you look up at him between his legs. In his perspective, it was a very hot sight to see. But it won’t be as hot as what he’s about to purpose to you. “You… I, I wanna taste you too.”

You cock your head to the side, slightly confused. “So you don’t want me to suck your-“

“Yes, I do but I wanna eat your pussy too-“

“What, what, are you saying-“

Oh. Oh. “69?” You gasp, a slight curl on the corner of your lips. 

His lustful and excited eyes confirm it, “you up for it?”

Your pussy is screaming ‘yes!’ But your brain is hesitant; you’ve never done the 69 before. With Zack, he’s tried missionary, doggy, cowgirl, spooning, etc, but never the 69. 

Hell, why not? Sounds interesting, and with Drew, it might feel heavenly. 

“Teach me,” you say, sitting up. 

His eyes widen; either from your approval or your unknowingness to this position. But seeing how intrigued you were to try this, he smirks, nodding. He adjusts himself on the pillows, “you’re in luck, I’m a great teacher.”

“Really?” You lift your dress over your head, now, only left with your underwear on. Drew licks his lips at the sight of your breasts, and when you glance down to his boxers; you see pre-cum already soaking it up. 

“M-hm,” he’s clearly lost in the sight of your nakedness. “Back yourself onto my face.”

The way he says it; just makes you even more horny. 

You do just as he says, not before sliding your underwear off. You keep looking over your shoulder; spreading your legs as you plant your pussy on his face. You make sure to not fully sit on him; afraid that your weight might suffocate him. 

You feel his hands on two sides of your thighs, gripping it tight and pulling you further down. “Relax, babe,” he coos. “Just, sit on me, I can take it.”

“You sure?”

“More than ever.”

And you sink your ass onto his face; until you can feel the tip of his nose poking your entrance, his hot breathe fanning it. Oh shit. “Look, you’re wet already,” he teases, licking the side of your thighs, very close to your pussy. 

You groan at the feeling, but Drew quickly reminds you to stay on task, “Lean forward.”

You do; leaning your upper body down till his dick was right in your face. You hoist your upper body up with your elbows, creating a bit of space for you to suck his dick comfortably. You pull his boxers down; and moan at the sight.

“Ready?” He murmurs against your pussy. 

You pull your hair to the side, “m-hm.”

You wrap your lips around his the tip of his dick, at the same time, he starts licking your folds. You moan around him, your mind consumed with the pleasure of him making out with your pussy.

You force yourself further down on his cock, the salty pre-cum taste on your tongue. His tip hits the back of your throat; gag reflexes triggering slightly. He was big, so it was a bit struggling to fit him entirely into your mouth. 

“Taking it like a good girl, huh?” He manages to groan out, his breath fanning our pussy. 

You just moan against his length; starting to bop your head up and down along it, occasionally sucking or biting. Your hand goes to massage his balls; which causes him to moan loudly. Shit. That motivates you to continue massaging his balls, knowing now that it’s what he likes. 

He moans against you, while his tongue keeps thrusting itself into your pussy. Fuck, this all felt…so surreal. Is one even able to feel so much pleasure at once, just through oral sex?

The room is now just the sounds of the two of you, moaning and grunting, the bed slightly shaking. 

You feel yourself coming close, as Drew continues to make out with your pussy. “Fuck…I’m close, Drew,” you breathe out, bopping your head slower now. 

“I’know,” he murmurs, his tongue going slower too. “Just, continue with that, ‘kay?”

A sudden slap to your ass causes you to moan out of surprise, but also a reminder for you to continue wrapping your lips around his dick. 

You do so; but only about half-way. With your orgasm coming close, your mouth was close to giving up. Eventually, you pull your mouth entirely away from Drew, wanting to focus on your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he groans, and just when you get ready to come over his mouth, his tongue stops, and you don’t feel his head nuzzled in your ass anymore. You glance back, curious as to what happened. His grip on your thighs loosens, but still resting there. “Lemme take over, yeah?”

You had no idea what that meant. But, you don’t object to it, nodding your head. 

In a second, he lifts you off of him, and gets off from his comfortable position on the bed. “You got a condom?” He asks, standing up. 

“In my purse,” you point over to the black bag on the small kitchen counter; the one you brought to dinner. 

He gives you a teasing smile, while he walks over to get it. “So you knew you were getting laid tonight.”

Well, you always needed to be prepared, right? You lay yourself on the same spot Drew was just in, warm and smelling just like Drew. You prop yourself up with your elbows; eyes looking at his back as he rummages through your bag. He has a nice ass, by the way. “Couldn’t hurt to have it,” you reply lazily. 

He turns around with a condom, ripping it open as he walks back to the bed. You watch as he positions himself between your legs, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He leans forward and kisses you, a very sloppy kiss. 

You’re taken by surprise when his fingers enter you; causing you to moan into his mouth. “Fuck,” he curses against your lips, his fingers thrusting in. He adds a third digit, which is close to sending you over the edge. 

He stretches you out, while his lips now move to your breasts. You arch your back in pleasure, moans showing him how good it felt. 

His fingers pull out, and you watch as he aligns his dick with your entrance. Fuck, no matter how many times you see him, it’ll always shock you with how big he is. 

You make eye contact with him, which makes him send you a lazy smile. “You good?” Teasing but also caring is heard in his voice. 

“Will…I fit?” you ask unsurely. 

He chuckles, placing a small kiss on your jawline. “Don’t worry; you’ll fit. And it’ll feel good.”

You nod, trusting him. 

He enters you slowly, making sure you can adjust to his size. You moan when his dick is fully nested inside of you, your hands scratching his back. He leans his forehead gently against yours; the both of you catching your breaths. 

He feels you relax under him, and intertwines his fingers with yours. His head pulls away, and for a few seconds, it’s just him staring at your face. You watch as his eyes linger to every spot on your face. 

“Hey,” you softly say, which comes out more flirtatious. 

“Hey,” he returns the greeting to you, sounding breathless. “You’re pretty.”

That makes you smile, and you pull him back down to kiss him. He kisses back, while thrusting into your core. You moan, even though his thrusts were slow. 

“Faster,” you moan.

“Yes ma’am.”

Hot. Hot. Hot. Hot. The way his deep voice adds to that line, gets your pussy closer to coming. And a man of his words, he picks up the pace, slamming into you. 

The bed shakes even harder now, the moans the two of you produce are shamelessly loud. He trails small kisses along your neck, sucking occasionally. 

And as crazy as this thought was; you knew Drew was going to be the best sex you’ve ever had. Might even be better than the night you lost your virginity. He knows all the ways to feel good, to make you feel good. 

With each thrust, you feel yourself coming close again. “Shit, Drew. I’m close,” you groan, tightening yourself around his dick. 

“I’know babe,” he kisses the corner of your eye. “Cum on my dick; I got you.”

He continues his fast pace, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, until you feel a knot in your stomach go undone. 

You cum all over his dick, your body giving up now. Drew helps himself, and you feel him twitch inside of you too. His pacing slows, and you feel warm cum entering his condom. 

“…You squirted,” you hear him chuckle, as he rests his head on your shoulder. 

Oh shit. How embarrassing. You didn't know you were even capable of squirting. Is Drew grossed out by that? Based on his tone, he might not be, but then again-

“That’s…really fucking hot.”

You feel your cheeks go red just because of his compliment, letting go of his hands. You cover your face out of shyness, “shut up.”

You hear him chuckle again, “really…you’re very hot. And beautiful.”

He holds down on your waist as he slowly pulls out of you. You hear him walking across the room; probably to discard his condom. The warmth of him is gone; but a dip on the side of you tells you that he’s laid down on the bed with you. 

This man was unbelievable. First, he shamelessly looks at you during dinner, not engaging in any way with you. Second, he comes into your room in the middle of the night, claiming he’s got ‘important’ stuff to tell you. Third, he listens to long, boring stories about your life. Fourth, he fucks you so good you squirt. 

Unbelievable. 

You pull your hands away from your face, and you turn to face him. He’s already staring at you, his arms resting behind his head. 

The two of you just lay in silence; your eyes dancing all over his facial features. He really does look like the guy you lost your virginity to. Same face, same eyes, nose, lips. The resemblance is…uncanny. 

“You…” you want to ask him if he’s Drew. The Drew from four years ago. 

But you don’t. For some reason, you just can’t. You can’t bring yourself to ask him.

It was a horrible memory; crying at home for days, just because he rejected you. Crying over a guy that you weren’t even together with. It was a stupid memory, that you kept deep in your heart. Eventually, that memory was pushed to the very back with Zack’s help.

“…we just did 69,” you say instead. 

That makes him laugh; sending butterflies to your stomach. “Yeah, we did.”

You’re feeling a bit sleepy now; the tiredness of the sex washing over you. Drew suddenly gets up, and for a moment you think that he’s leaving. 

But he wasn’t; simply grabbing some tissues on the coffee table. He spreads your legs, and starts wiping the cum off it. “What a gentleman,” you sarcastically comment, even though you were happy he’s cleaning up after; Zack never does.

“The bare minimum, y/n,” he tells you instead, before getting off the bed again, throwing it away. 

Huh. You didn’t know; you’ve ever only been with Zack. 

He lays down beside you again, but not before pulling the blanket over you. “Tired?”

“Very,” you murmur, your eyelids feeling heavy. You don’t know why you said it, but you just did, “you can stay here.”

“Wasn’t gonna leave anyways,” he replies back almost instantly.

Warmth spreads throughout you, the comfort of Drew just laying beside you was enough to make you fall asleep. 

And you do drift off to sleep, with the last thing on your mind being Drew. 

Soon enough, Drew falls asleep too, but not before hugging you closely to him. 

-------------------------------

word count: 6.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: damn they freaky (69 after four years...freaky bitches)

anyways, this is the longest chapter i've so far ...but i hope you enjoyed part three (there will be part 4!) ignore any mistakes...got real tired towards the end. i want to thank everyone who reads my work, u don't know but means a lot to me<3 also thanks to the person that also thought of the time skip idea...tysm! so...will y/n and drew open up about the past?

elevator | other | index | pt2 | pt4

[neiptune]

the entire party thinks we're dating

cw: 4.5k wc, female reader, sendo registers oliver on one of those rent a boyfriend for a day websites as a prank and you just so happen to need a date for another wedding you really don't want to attend on your own—

When you swing the door open, you can’t help but blink a few times at the sight before your eyes.

“Oh”, you say.

The man staring back with a lopsided smile, hands buried in the pockets of what looks like an expensive suit, raises his brows.

“Oh?”, he parrots, “thought we could start with hello, nice to meet you”.

“Sorry, it’s just…”, you tilt your head, “I get why you’re so expensive. They weren’t kidding with that description”.

When you leave the door open and waltz back into the living room, Oliver takes it as an invitation to come in.

“Can you remind me what that description said?”, the sound of the door being softly pushed closed echoes in the silent room while you’re busy checking yourself out in the mirror above the couch.

“Friendly, tall, incredibly charming, devastatingly handsome. Something like that”.

He smirks, catching your gaze in the mirror.

“And you just validated all that, huh?”.

You click your tongue.

“We’ll see about the friendly, incredibly charming part”.

“Devastatingly handsome it is then, I’ll take the compliment. You look really good in that dress, by the way”.

“Don’t”, you scoff, “you’re too hot to be that much of a clichè”.

He hums, amused.

“Not too hot to tell the truth. You know, for someone so wary, it’s surprising you’d let me pick you up at your place”.

“Not her place”, Chisako’s voice startles him and you sigh, turning to the mirror once more: your hair is being exceptionally stubborn.

“Listen… what’s your name again?”, your best friend eyes him up and down, hands on her hips.

“I’m Oliver”, he replies, seemingly amused. You meet his gaze in the mirror once more.

“Listen, Oliver. You do anything to her, anything, and I’ll kill you. Won’t even go through the fuss of pressing charges, you hear me?”.

“That’s sweet”.

She narrows her gaze.

“You think I’m kidding? Hands to yourself and don’t try anything funny”.

“Hey, just a quick reminder, she rented me”.

“You, don’t talk to my friend like that”, you finally whip around, exasperated, “and you, please don’t scare my very expensive date away yet. I still need him”.

With a scoff, Chisako lightly slaps your finger away from her chest.

“Fine. Share your location and call me if you need anything. Keep your phone with you”, you soften when you read the sincere worry swarming in her eyes and smile.

“Deal. Thank you”, with a deep breath, you grab your purse and take an uncertain step back, “do I look okay?”.

“More than okay, you’re…”.

“Beautiful”.

You both look at him, skeptical.

“You don’t have to do that”.

“Do what?”, Oliver chuckles, “let me guess, you think that was also a lie”.

“Hot and smart? You really are the whole package”, with a scoff, you walk past him and toward the front door, where you slip your very pretty, very uncomfortable heels on.

Still evidently amused, he opens the door for you and offers his arm to walk you down the stairs of the old apartment complex. Chisako waits on the balcony, arms folded and resting on the black railing. You look up and she waves, making you chuckle.

When Oliver leans forward to open the car door for you, you look at him astonished.

“You came… in a porsche?”.

He grins.

“I mean, you did pay for the whole package”.

Right.

“So, we’re gonna need a story, right? Am I your boyfriend or are we just casually dating?”, the smaller space you’re now sharing is ruthless in making you notice the details you couldn’t catch in your friend’s apartment. The man starting the engine and now sitting dangerously close to you smells unfairly good and the deep rumble of his voice, low, intimate, feels as soft as velvet. It almost resembles the purr of a big cat.

“Boyfriend. We met about two months ago and only recently made it official”.

“Sounds good to me”, he briefly glances at you with a smile, “whose wedding is it, anyway?”.

You grimace.

“An old colleague. She’s never gonna buy this but we can do our best”.

“Are you doubting me or yourself right now?”.

With a snort, you gesture vaguely.

“You’re an incredibly attractive guy who drives a sports car. No one at that wedding is going to believe I could bag that”.

“It’s my job to make sure they do”, Oliver clicks his tongue, “besides, I think I’d have a much harder time charming you. I’m pretty easy to bag”.

His absolutely serious tone makes you melt into a chuckle, which he seems to appreciate. Head slightly turned, you focus on his profile for a brief moment. The bridge of his nose, full lips, long lashes. You wonder if he’s using contacts. He must be, right? There’s no way he’d be blessed with those eyes too, among everything else.

“You’re staring”, he mutters, still focused on the road. The playful lilt of his tone makes you shift in your seat.

“You’re nice to look at”.

He huffs out a sound that sounds like a chuckle, both amused and somehow coy.

“How come you ended up on that website? You don’t seem like the type who’d need to rent a man”.

You stay silent for a few seconds, looking straight ahead while lost in your own thoughts. Truth is, you’re not quite sure yourself. It’s true: you’re definitely not the type and, suddenly, the entirety of the absurd situation weighs heavy on your chest.

You’re in a car, with a man you know nothing about, heading to a wedding party where everyone will be able to call your bluff. And you spent an embarrassing amount of money for this, too.

“I think I’m about to throw up”, you murmur.

“Excuse me?”.

“I’m seriously about to throw up. Oh, no. What was I thinking?”, your hands rise to cover your face, “stop the car, please”.

“We’re on the highway”.

“But I’m about to throw-”

“Please stop talking about throwing up, the thought of someone vomiting triggers my gag reflex”, Oliver sends an alarmed glance your way but you’re refusing to meet his gaze, practically bending over in your own seat, “think of the leather seats”.

“I don’t care about your stupid leather seats!”.

“You were fine ten seconds ago-”

“Oliver”, the way you straight out whine his name all of a sudden tucks the words back into his throat, “I don’t even know you. Oh, god, what if you’re a maniac? What if you try to murder me? I’m in a car with a man I don’t know, I spent so much money only to end up dead in a ditch!”.

“Okay, listen-”

“I’m sorry, I know this is a really weird reaction but I’m freaking out big time, I never did this before-”

“Me neither!”.

Your eyes grow in size and your jaw slacks, panic overcoming your features. Oliver clears his throat.

“I mean, I never had to convince an entire audience at a wedding. My dates were always a walk in the park, an afternoon at the mall, one movie, an ice cream on the way home”, he lies so easily it almost makes him laugh. Either way, Oliver slows down and gently stops the car, parking it on the shoulder of the highway.

“Hey”, he tentatively reaches for your wrist, to gently remove one of your hands from your face, “can you look at me? You said I’m nice to look at, no?”.

“You are. Which would make you the perfect murderer”, you whisper. Still, you comply and find an incredulous smile brightening up his face.

“Jesus. Okay, listen, I promise you can trust me. I won’t hurt you. If you changed your mind I can drive you home right now, or drop you off at the venue and leave”. 

“Really?”.

“Really”.

You inhale a deep breath and relax against your seat underneath the weight of his honest, magnetic gaze.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m insane”.

“Believe it or not, I’ve met more insane people”, he smiles.

You lower your gaze.

“It’s just… not something I would usually do. I was really tired of being always the lonely one at weddings and social gatherings, I never let the teasing get to me but I guess I started feeling”, you pause to look for the right word, “vulnerable. I don’t have to prove anything but I was just so sick of it. And this particular colleague is insufferable, she’s been with the guy ever since high school and just kept talking my ear off about true love, soulmates, all that bullshit…”, Oliver laughs and you look up from your lap.

“What?”.

“Nothing”, he raises both hands in mock protection, “keep going”.

You glare at him.

“Well, that’s the story. I was exhausted, drank an entire bottle of wine, found the website, booked the most expensive option because I really wanted to rub it in their faces. Then I almost had a panic attack about it, apparently”.

“The most expensive, huh?”, his blatant smugness makes you groan.

“You know you are the most expensive”.

He doesn’t, really. But it’s surely a pleasant learning.

“Right. Well, I’m ready to be your arm candy and piss the bride off if you’ll have me”, Oliver flashes you another smile, “you know, I’m sure she hired a good glam team but I’m willing to bet my date still looks better”.

“You’re such a flirt”, you smile and idly shake your head, “you know what? Fine. What the hell, I deserve a few hours with a hot dude who says I look pretty. Let’s go piss the bride off”.

He starts the engine again with a pleased hum.

“Please pay more attention, I remember saying you look beautiful”.

“Ugh, they really know what they’re doing on that website”, you laugh, sudden and loud and genuine.

Oliver never thought Sendo’s dumb prank was something he’d resent him for. On the contrary, he decided to go with it just one time, for the sake of having a funny story to share one day.

Now, with the vivacious laughter of the (not entirely sane) stranger currently in his car still ringing in his ears, he knows he made the right decision.

Oliver is not prepared for the way you surprise him.

He has witnessed enough unsettling transformations in his life, hell, he still sometimes becomes another person on the field, but the switch you turn on the second you both walk into the reception is… staggering.

No one would be able to tell you had a breakdown in his car just moments prior to walking into the venue. Watching the way you carry yourself, how you talk to everyone, the confidence embedded in every word and movement is mesmerizing. Makes him doubt of his own sanity because what if he imagined you almost throwing up on his expensive seats?

His thumb idly runs over your knuckles as you introduce him to yet another friend. The boyfriend renting agreement comes with some important rules: the date is to be strictly platonic and there’s a fixed hourly rate which gets higher the more requested a boyfriend is. You briefly discussed some boundaries, to make sure the other is comfortable at all times: Oliver can’t kiss you and you can’t kiss him, but everything else is pretty much allowed. You asked if it was okay for him to hold your hand and he made it pretty clear that it wasn’t a problem, or so the fingers so easily slipping in between yours seemed to suggest. 

You kiss each other’s cheek and rest your heads on each other’s shoulder and your hands are so gentle as they move strands of dark hair away from his eyes. His arm feels solid and comforting around your shoulders, hand warm against the small of your back as he guides you through the garden filled with tables and guests.

Surprising Oliver is not easy but something weird happens when you call him baby for the first time. He wonders how you can make it sound so natural, where you learned to be a liar good enough to have your eyes sparkle like that, on demand. He’s there to have a fun story to share but he’s also supposed to do the work, to do what’s expected of him. Instead, it feels like you’re pulling the strings and all he can do is try to stay afloat within your current.

He surprises you too. When a few guests gather around you two, wonder shimmering in their eyes, friends asking where you even got to meet a pro soccer player, you look at him as shocked and rightfully confused as a fake girlfriend would be.

“She asked if she could get a jersey signed for…”, Oliver searches your gaze in silent demand and you clear your throat, still flabbergasted.

“Kenji”, you offer an easy smile.

The man standing on Oliver’s left, supposedly Kenji himself, gasps.

“Right, Kenji”, Oliver smiles too, “I told her I would only sign it if she went on a date with me”.

“He has that romantic blackmail thing about him, I fell for it instantly”, you ever so slightly narrow your gaze and, in response, he tightens his hold around your waist.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us tickets to some games?”, another one of your old colleagues, Yoshio, pouts.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us the numbers of some pro soccer players?”, your friend Yumi practically shoves Yoshio out of the way and you finally relax, melting into genuine laughter.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Guess we can still make that happen, right, baby?”, there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes when you look at him. He thinks he might get used to being looked at with such daring playfulness.

“Sure. Shuto’s always happy to go on dates-”

“Sendo Shuto?”, Yumi’s eyes get as big as saucers. This time, Oliver laughs with you.

It shouldn’t come as a shock that he’s good at what he does but you still can’t quite believe just how talented he is as a fake boyfriend. You’re aching to ask questions, the entire dinner spent wondering what on earth a famous pro soccer player is even doing on a rent a boyfriend website. Nothing gets past social media these days, wouldn’t that be news eventually? How does he keep it a secret? Is it a second job, a weird fetish?

Akane’s never been particularly traditional from what you can recall but her husband really wanted to incorporate as much traditional customs as possible in their celebration. You sit through course after course of plates and bowls filled with delicious dishes: clear soup with shrimp cake, sashimi, grilled fish glazed with sweet miso, tempura, red rice. All the while Oliver, ankle hooked around yours underneath the table, makes perfect conversation with everyone. He has an answer ready to each question and you pretend to ignore both your colleagues’ and Akane’s bewildered, inquisitorial gazes directed at you from tables away, too busy reciprocating your date’s honeyed praises and smiles.

He gets you alone in between courses, right as everyone is either taking a break or bringing the dancefloor to life before fruit and cake are served. They won’t buy it if we don’t pull away from the crowd for a little bit.

It’s why Oliver currently has you pressed against a retaining wall in a more secluded but still strategically visible part of the garden, body towering over yours and so close you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his white shirt.

“A pro soccer player”, you click your tongue, “care to explain?”.

“Relax your shoulders”, he murmurs and smiles, pleased, when you comply right away, “I owe you a date, not explanation”.

You deflate a bit and Oliver curls further over you.

“Fine, keep your secrets”, a pause, “won’t this be a problem if someone takes some pics and leaks them, though?”.

“I stopped caring about that stuff long time ago. But I can have everyone here sign an nda to protect you from it, just say the word”.

You shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’m not really on social media and we’ll split up by tomorrow, anyway”.

“Aw, you’ll break my heart”, one of his hands rises to rest on the side of your neck, thumb softly tracing your jaw, “even after validating how friendly and incredibly charming I am. So cold”.

There’s something about him, a stranger you paid to pretend to be your boyfriend for the sake of not attending yet another wedding alone. It’s odd and has your heart thumping in your chest, something behind your ribs catching fire whenever his fingers graze your skin so intentionally. You wonder if this is really him, if he’s the person you feel so inexplicably drawn to. If there’s a chance of you not being stupid enough to be attracted to a faux boyfriend with a carefully crafted, fictitious personality.

“Make it look like you’re kissing me”, you ignore his teasing for the sake of your sanity and slightly tilt your head up to meet the dangerous glint of mismatched eyes. Oliver lowers his head and tilts it slightly to the side, lips moving against your cheek when he speaks again.

“Put your arms around my neck”, he orders back in a murmur. Your scoff makes him chuckle as he pretends to not notice how you shiver against him.

“This is such a weird side job to have”, your embrace pulls him closer, or maybe it’s the lightest brush of your lips against his chin. When your fingers start carding through the green hair at the base of his nape, he exhales.

“Maybe it’s not a side job. Maybe I’m just here for you, just this once”.

You idly brush your nose against his cheek, a feeling warm and treacherous unfurling in your chest. He pulls back enough to lock your gaze to his once more, still so intense despite being concealed by the partial darkness of this particular corner of the garden. He is so unfairly beautiful. Not far from where you stand, guests are laughing and drinking and dancing, some of them no doubt looking at you two. It’s striking, how little they suddenly matter.

“Maybe that makes me lucky, then”, you whisper, lean into his touch when his other hand cradles your cheek. Oliver gently holds your face in his hands, seemingly conflicted as his gaze falls on your lips. You tilt your head back to give him a better view.

An absurd thought takes shape in a far corner of your mind: will this truly be the one and only time you’ll get to see him? Not that you’d ever be pathetic enough to rent a man from a website multiple times. Let alone the same man. It’s such a weird, ridiculous thing to be disappointed by. You wonder if it’ll rival the disappointment of not being kissed by him.

Oliver wets his lips, the pink flash of his tongue alluring in a maddening way. Your head spins. You don’t recall ever feeling such unusual torment before.

And then, finally, finally, he leans closer.

“Hey, lovebirds!”, Akane’s cheerful tone makes you both jump and you bring a hand to your chest as Oliver takes a wobbly step back, “we didn’t have the chance to chat, are you having fun?”.

She’s not talking to you at all, attentive gaze set on the man next to you.

“Everything’s perfect, thank you for having us. I wish you both everlasting happiness”, you smile, a little tense.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. One almost wishes he was around for all those office christmas parties, right? Remember how you were always the only one to show up alone?”.

You clear your throat, shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I remember. Always alone and yet still the funniest person in every room, without fail”, with a wink, you hope to conceal the soreness caused by her ungenerous words.

Akane hums.

“I still wonder why that’s such a great coping mechanism…”

“It proves she doesn’t need a man to have a personality”, Oliver straight out grins, one hand comes to rest on your nape and gives it a gentle squeeze, “it’s what I like about her”.

She raises her brows in interest.

“Well, that’s true. She’s pretty great”.

“Yeah, she is”.

You relax under his touch and a strange thrill comes with it, with knowing he possesses the ability to make you feel at ease. He doesn’t exactly dislike such knowledge.

“I’m glad you have each other now”, Akane’s features soften, “maybe one day I’ll be invited to your wedding!”.

You cough, embarrassed.

“Let’s not go overbo-”

“Maybe!”, Oliver chimes in once again, jovial, “who can tell?”.

It almost makes you choke on air. When you look up at him, Akane’s cheerful laughter echoing in the sweet summer evening air, he’s already looking at you.

As you stumble back to join the other guests, heels sinking in the soft grass, the bride gently grazes your arm with the pads of her fingers before rejoining her husband and their closest friends. You know Akane is not a bad person, her words don’t hold any actual venom despite stinging. In her own way she means well, which is why you are so genuinely happy for her. She got the happy ending she was always destined to have. It’s just that not everyone is as lucky and it’s unfair to expect them to be just because she’s part of the chosen ones.

“Where are you going?”, Oliver hooks a finger in the low square back of your dress to pull you in, the contact setting something similar to a flow of electricity running along your spine.

“To eat cake?”, you easily dissimulate. He keeps his finger there, even when you stop in your tracks.

“Let them”, he winks, “may I have this dance?”.

You stay frozen.

“Did you just casually quote Marie Antoinette to me?”, is all you can come up with because, frankly, the idea of a man who already possesses so many blessings being also able to dance is a little too unfair.  

“Can’t a man be hot and educated?”, he grins, then finally releases the back of your dress by letting the stretch fabric lightly slap against your back, “don’t think you can distract me, let’s go”.

If there’s one learning to be taken from this impossibly strange evening is that, apparently, there is no escaping Oliver Aiku. He even rivals the promise of a rich serving of white chocolate almond cake with raspberry filling.

He pulls you close on the interlocking parquet dance floor rented by the newlyweds, hands splayed big and warm on your hips as your arms, for the second time, find their way to rest around his neck. You do your best to not feel intimidated by the excessively romantic, slow track everyone else is currently dancing to as well.

Then, it’s as if a spell is cast on you. Or rather a curse.

“Who is he?”, the question surprises you and your eyes find his. Oliver is so close and he smells so unethically good.

“Who?”, yet you struggle to keep your focus, attention oscillating between the stranger you’re currently pressed against and a more familiar face your wandering eyes keep searching, dancing not far from you. Something painfully throbs in your chest.

“The man you keep looking at, who is he?”, Oliver asks softly, almost caringly.

“My ex-boyfriend”, the confession isn’t but a low whisper, “I think. I think he’s here with the woman he cheated on me with. Well, one of them, anyway”, your chuckle is bitter. It distorts the joyfulness of the evening, the mere sight of them suddenly staining, polluting every positive feeling you’ve been able to feel until now.

And then Oliver is grasping your chin, tilting his head to effectively block your view of them. You’re forced to look at him and only him, to focus on how his thumb skating over the skin underneath your bottom lip feels.

“How about you keep your eyes on me, then?”, he whispers.

“Sorry”, you stop yourself with a sigh when your gaze slides once more, “I’m sorry. It’s really stupid”.

“What is?”, his gaze, perhaps involuntarily, falls on your lips, “caring? Feeling hurt?”.

“Don’t do that”.

“What?”.

“Don’t… like, I know this is an act. But you don’t have to do that too, pretend to care. You’re a little too good at it and it confuses me”.

Oliver lets go of your chin and offers a faint smile.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you confuse me too”.

You blink a few times, taken aback. He gracefully takes one of your hands from behind his neck and lifts your arm above your head to twirl you. For a moment, his eyes appreciate the airy swirl of the hem of your dress.

“I’m only pretending to be your boyfriend”, everything else feels a little too real, he wants to add. Maybe you’ll read the unsaid in eyes he can’t seem to be able to keep on anything else but you.

“You have a gift”, with a smile, you choose to deflect, “ever thought of giving up the soccer career?”.

“For this, you mean?”, Oliver goes from having his hands on your hips to hooking his arms around your waist, effectively caging you against him. Your forehead grazes his and the wind is swiftly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden proximity.

“Something like that, yeah”, one of your hands toys with his green strands once more, nails lightly scratching the back of his neck. A sound of contentment vibrates low in his throat and it makes you want to pull him close, impossibly closer.

He tilts his head to the side and you feel dizzy because his lips are ever so slightly brushing against yours. Not quite touching them, never kissing them, just there as a faint reminder or rather an intoxicating promise.

“You have to go in about five minutes”, you whisper, perhaps for the sake of feeling more of his mouth so close yet still too far from your own.

“Mm?”, he only manages to let out a confused sound.

You let your nose brush against his own. Playfully, daringly.

“I could only afford a couple hours, not the entire night”.

Oliver welcomes the implications of your admission with a low chuckle.

“And if I stay?”.

“I may be too broke for that”.

He presses a kiss to the very corner of your mouth. Sweet, fleeting. Determined.

“My treat”.

He can keep it platonic for about five more minutes.

[mayajadewrites]

deprivation

shota aizawa x reader

characters: shota aizawa, fem! reader

synopsis: the teachers of UA are out at a bar for their weekly happy hour. aizawa is (reluctantly) there, sipping on a beer after a long week of dealing with his students. reader has had a long week dealing with her own classes and other hero work, so she's letting loose tonight.

warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), smut!!!

IM BACK! this is the first thing i've written in months so pls be kind to me :) i've missed u guys!

"Another round, bartender!" Present Mic, Hizashi, slams down his shot glass and smiles at the bartender with his pearly white teeth as he lowers his glasses on his nose.

You feel the warm liquid go down your throat as you throw back yet another shot - courtesy of Hizashi and Nemuri. Your mouth curves into a pout as you feel the burning sensation down your esophagus, shaking your head.

"Fuck, what was that? Acid?" You take a sip of water, shaking your head as you look over at Shota Aizawa, who's leaning lazily on the wall next to the table, his gaze lazily on you.

"Tequila." He speaks up quietly before sipping on his beer. He has his hair half up, half down and his sleeves are rolled up slightly so you can see his forearms. His muscular, manly forearms.

The truth is, you've had feelings for Aizawa for awhile now. You're pretty good at masking them, however you can have to stop yourself from letting your feelings crawl up your throat and out of your mouth.

You've known Aizawa for about 3 years, been friendly and even had some lunches together in the faculty break room.

He's a friend. A coworker. A colleague. And he doesn't do relationships, according to... well, everyone.

Being a teacher and a hero means your schedule is always busy. Almost no time to relax, except the weekly happy hour.

"Well, it's gross." You look up at Aizawa for a moment before turning your attention back to Hizashi and Nemuri.

Aizawa chuckles lightly before shaking his head, going back to being quiet and observing.

Another drink can't hurt.

It must've been a couple hours later, but you've lost most of the control of your limbs and mind. Shot after shot, drink after drink - your mind was hazy.

Your eyes are half lidded as you rest your cheek on your palm, shamelessly staring at Aizawa as you give him a warm, drunk smile.

"You're cut off." He says, putting his beer bottle on the table. You give him an uncharacteristic pout, leaning up slightly.

"You're no fun." You stand up, almost falling as you try to stand up straight. You feel large, warm hands on your hips, catching you before you fall.

When you look up, you're almost hypnotized by the dark eyes that are staring back at you.

"I'm taking you home." Aizawa says, grabbing his jacket, then helping you put yours on.

When you lift your arms, a pout is still on your face as he pulls the sleeves over your arms. He's treating you like a child. "I can put my jacket on myself."

Aizawa looks at you, giving you a knowing look before he rolls his eyes, pulling your sleeves up. He doesn't answer verbally, but you know he's saying some sarcastic remark in his head.

You pull your purse over your shoulder, running your fingers through your hair to try to gain some sort of control. To feel something.

You feel the strands of your hair, taking a breath as you look down. How did you get so drunk? Did the bartender put more liquor in the drinks than usual?

You feel Aizawa's large hand grip your arm, gently pulling you out of the bar. You hear a mess of drunk goodbyes, most of the other teachers probably won't even remember you left.

The cold air hits your skin when you walk outside, immediately crossing your arms over your chest. Aizawa looks down at you, giving you a soft smirk before taking his keys out of his pocket to unlock his car.

Like the gentleman he is, he ushers you into the passenger seat, closing the door softly. You lean your head on the window, closing your eyes as you try to breathe slowly.

"You okay for me to drive?" He looks at you, the keys already in the ignition.

You only nod, your hands on your thighs as your fingers fumble with the rips in your jeans.

"I'm sorry you have to drive me home." You say after a few minutes of silence.

"I'd rather me take you home then you get in some Uber drunk." His eyes are on the road, not looking at you for a second.

Your eyes fall down his arms to his hands, almost mesmerized by them. His hands are big, slightly rough from his years of teaching and hero work, the veins visible.

Fuck.

When he pulls up to your apartment, you sigh as you look at the front of your building. Aizawa looks at you, finally, and huffs softly. "Come on, before you throw up in my car."

Was the apartment clean enough? Did you leave your clothes out that you were picking out before work?

It's too late to give a shit now.

You unlock the front door to the apartment, sighing as you took your shoes off and looked around the room. It's not messy, thank goodness.

Your cat Salem (yes he's an all black cat, how cliche but cute), trots up to the door and rubs his body against your calves, stopping in front of Aizawa. You didn't look, but you could feel the glare Salem was giving him.

When you turn around to look at Aizawa in the doorway, your cheeks flush pink. He's leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders on full display as your eyes wander his body.

When you finally look in his eyes, he's already looking into yours.

"Are you okay if I go?" He clears his throat, standing up straight, looking away from you for a moment.

No. Fuck no, it's not okay. You wanted to say.

It might be the liquor talking, but - "N-no. I'm not okay for you to leave."

Aizawa blinks, looking rather confused as he stays leaning against the doorframe. "Why not? Are you gonna be sick or something?"

You close your eyes, pressing your palms to your face as you sigh, shaking your head.

"My quirk isn't mind reading, you know. You have to tell me what you're thinking." He steps into your apartment. Just one step, but a step none the less.

You remove your hands from your face, looking up at him as he steps closer to you. Damn, he's handsome. His hair is wavy, some pieces framing his face, a slight pink in his cheeks from the cold temperature outside.

"I want you to stay here with me." You slur your words slightly, wincing after hearing the way they came out. He gives you a sympathetic look, shaking his head slightly.

"I don't know if-"

"What, you have a girlfriend? A wife? A fuck buddy?" The liquor keeps talking. You're more confident now as you speak, but the liquor in your system has nearly taken over.

"No, I don't. But you're drunk, and -"

"And what!" Your voice is almost a whine when you look up at him. He's looking down at you, a slight - very slight smirk on his lips as he speaks slowly.

"You just need to sleep, okay? I'll help you -" He reaches his hand out to usher you to your bedroom, but you refuse to leave from the spot you stand.

He's still touching your arm, but you're closer to him now. You can smell his cologne, musk with a hint of vanilla. Your fingers gently press to his broad chest, gauging his reaction.

He doesn't move, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You toy with the button on his shirt, pressing it between your thumb and index finger.

When you look up into his eyes, he's staring into yours again. This time he doesn't look away.

This is it. This is your shot.

You lean in, pressing your palm flat onto his chest as you stand on your tippy toes, your lips hovering in front of his as you close your eyes.

"No." He whispers, his large hand moving to the back of your head to stop you from falling back. "You're drunk."

You huff, opening your eyes and looking at him through your lashes. "So what? I know what I'm doing, Shota."

The man's fingers lace in your hair, caressing your scalp gently as he looks in your eyes, the look on his face far softer than you've seen.

"If I kiss you, I want you to remember it." His tone is so... affectionate. Soft. As if he wants to make sure the words don't hurt.

"Please stay." You look in his eyes again, pleading. "Stay on the couch, please. Just don't leave. Don't leave me."

After a moment, he nods, moving his hand out of your hair and to the small of your back. "Let's get you ready for bed."

Once you had your pajamas on, brushed your teeth and did your skincare, you hand Aizawa a pillow and blanket for the couch, giving him a soft, still intoxicated smile.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. Sleep well." He lays down on the couch, pulling his phone out to scroll as he lays the blanket on his body.

You don't remember going to bed, but you do remember the butterflies you felt in your stomach as you closed your door.

The next morning your head is pounding, but apparently your guardian angel left a glass of water on your nightstand along with Advil. You silently thank this angel, taking a sip of the water with the Advil, sitting up on your bed. Salem is curled up next to you in bed - his usually spot.

7AM.

Quietly, you open the door from your bedroom, peering into the living room, looking for Aizawa. The blanket was neatly folded on the couch along with the pillow.

No Aizawa.

You sigh, your hand pressed to the doorframe as you feel the sadness seep through your pores. He really left in the middle of the night?

Of course he did. He owes you nothing. He's just your colleague, coworker.

When you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wake yourself up, you hear your front door open.

With your toothbrush in your mouth, you walk out to the living room, eyes widening when you see the figure at the door.

Aizawa. With a bag of bagels and coffees.

"Good morning to you too." He says flatly, putting the breakfast and coffees on the counter as he takes off his shoes.

When Salem heard Aizawa's voice, he hopped off the bed and walked over to him, rubbing along his legs. You raise an eyebrow, watching the interaction.

Coming out from the bathroom after finishing brushing your teeth, you raise an eyebrow. "I thought you left."

"You thought I would leave without saying goodbye?" He presses his palm to his chest, feigning pain. "I'm not that kind of man."

"Well what else was I supposed to think? You took me home, helped my drunk ass get ready for bed, and I even tried to kiss you. I wouldn't blame you for escaping." You look down, sighing as you feel the embarrassment from last night. "I'm so sorry, by the way."

Aizawa didn't respond, only getting plates and napkins from the cabinets, opening a few to see where everything is. "You're awfully organized."

"I know." Slowly, you walk up to the kitchen island, leaning on the counter as you smell the savory aroma of the bagels, grabbing your iced coffee from the drink tray. "You remembered my coffee order? We've only gotten coffee together once."

"Yeah." His back is to you, his reaction unseen as he puts the bagels on plates, your eyes wandering to his broad shoulders, cascading down to his waist.

Breakfast was spent together, talking about the past week of teaching and enjoying each others company. With Aizawa, you can be yourself. Effortlessly.

When you finish your bagel, you lean your palm onto your cheek, letting your eyes wander to his gaze, a soft smile on your lips.

"What?" He his tone is lighter than usual, not as stoic and flat.

"You have cream cheese on your lip." You smile softly, reaching your thumb out, hovering over his lips. "May I?"

He nods, leaning his head towards yours slightly, his dark eyes looking down into yours as your thumb gracefully presses to his bottom lip, wiping off the cream cheese.

Bravely, you bring your thumb to your lips, tongue darting out to taste before pushing it into your mouth, your lips wrapped around your thumb as you keep your eyes on his.

Aizawa's face turned slightly pink, but his expression was still solid.

You stare at him, speaking softer than before as your body leans in slightly closer to his.

His heartbeat slightly increased, his head tilting slightly to the side. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Fuck, his voice is like velvet.

"The fact that I'm not drunk right now." You clear your throat, giving him a lazy smile. "And I still want to kiss you."

A noise came from his throat, it sounded almost like a purr. His eyes are hypnotizing, half-lidded as he leans in, bringing his large hand to your cheek.

"Are you sure?" He whispers, letting his thumb gently caress your cheek.

When you nod, he doesn't waste another second.. He presses his plush lips to yours in a soft, slow kiss. His hand slides down to the side of your neck, letting his fingers gently wrap around. His thumb grazed the front column of your neck, earning a soft noise from you.

When he heard the noise, he needed more. You let your hands press to his chest, gripping his shirt between your fingers as you part your lips slightly as your lips move in time with his.

You felt his fingers press gently against your throat, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he takes a sharp breath through his nose, deepening the kiss.

"Sh-Shota." You mumble against his lips, pulling his shirt to get him closer to you.

"Mm?"

"Bed. Please."

Aizawa's hands must have been crafted by the Greek Gods themselves, they fit perfectly on your body as he slid his palms from your neck to your ass, lifting you up as he stands, one of his hands grabbing your thigh to wrap around him. His lips stayed on your skin, kissing your neck, chest, the valley between your breasts - like he was addicted.

Once he opened the door to your bedroom, to your bed that was left unmade, he gently laid you down on your back, his eyes wandering over your figure before crawling on top of you.

You both hear a soft meow - Salem at the door looking for attention.

"Sorry kid, I have to give your mommy some special attention." Aizawa gently shoos him from the door, closing the door gently before turning his gaze back to you. "Where were we?"

Aizawa's lips tasted like black coffee, his natural scent invading your senses. You couldn't keep your hands off of him - from his jawline, across his stubble, his chest, biceps, no part of him was off limits.

Contrary to his stoic appearance, he's a very attentive, caring lover. His hands cascaded down your body, occasionally bringing them to your thick thighs, squeezing the skin as his tongue slips into your mouth.

Your fingers run through his wavy black hair, moaning into his mouth as you grip on the inky strands. You could feel him hardening above you, pressing his pelvis against your thigh.

"Sh-Shota." You let out a soft moan as you wrap your leg arond his waist, his hand instinctively moving to your thigh to assist you.

"Yes, kitten?" He fucking purred, moving slightly back as he looked in your eyes.

You couldn't speak, your mouth just hangs open slightly as you watch him take a hair tie from his pocket and pull his hair back. His front pieces of hair fall around his face before he leans down again, kissing your lips softly before moving his lips to your neck.

"You've always been so shy, kitten." Aizawa mumbles into your neck, biting it after his new nickname for you. "I've been waiting for you to make a move."

You furrow your eyebrows, closing your eyes as you tilt your head to the side slightly to give him more space to assault your neck.

"Why didn't you make a move first then, Eraser?"

"I didn't know if that's what you wanted." He pressed a kiss to your jawline, then your ear, then your lips as he smirked.

"You're the worst." You close your eyes to stop yourself from staring at him, biting at your lower lip to stop a moan from escaping.

"I'm the worst? I don't think you mean that." Aizawa smirks, a dirty smirk - one that you'll never forget. He lowers his body, moving down to your stomach as he pushes your oversized tshirt up, kissing your bare stomach gently as his hands pull your sweatpants down. "Is this okay?"

You nod, not able to get words out as you watch him pull your sweatpants all the way down, throwing them on the floor before his fingers hook on the side of your panties - black lace.

"These are cute." You could hear the smirk on his lips as he kisses the lace.

"The worst." You whine, your fingers pressing into your palms as your eyes roll back.

"Look at me." His voice is muffled against your thigh as he looks up at you. You look down into his beautiful dark eyes and nod, a sharp breath escaping your nostrils. "I want to see your pretty face when you come on my mouth."

He wasted no time pulling down your underwear, discarding them to the side as he pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, nestling between your thighs.

Your hand found it's way to his hair, your fingers digging into his scalp as you feel his lips get closer and closer to where you need him the most. Your hips bucked as you squirmed, his lips planting wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his nose grazed your slit - a smirk on his lips. The slick covered the tip of his nose, causing you to shudder.

"She's excited to finally meet me."

Fuck you, Shota Aizawa.

He plants a soft kiss near your clit before pressing his tongue flat along your slit, dragging it down before devouring you.

Your fingers gripped his hair as you felt his magical tongue inside you, like you're his last meal. Your hips bucked slightly, causing him to hold onto your hips, keeping you still.

"Eyes on me, baby." He mumbles against you, the vibrations making your toes curl. This man knows how to use his tongue and you envy any other woman that's gotten to experience this.

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently as he plunges two fingers inside you, curling them as he starts pushing them deeper.

"Shota, fuck, please -"

"Please what, kitten. Use your words."

"Don't stop, y-you're perfect." Your eyes roll to the back of your head while Aizawa drinks in every moment.

Your thighs start to shake in a way that makes him squeeze your skin, not breaking eye contact as he sucks on your clit while plunging two digits in and out of you.

He can feel your spongy walls tighten around his fingers, signaling your orgasm approaching.

"That's right, baby. Come for me. Make a mess." He mumbles against you, his fingers moving faster and faster.

You start to see splotches of white in your vision, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as you come, but you're overcome by the pleasure he's giving you.

He never stops sucking, licking, and finger fucking you through your high. "Thats it kitten. You taste so good." His low, sultry voice vibrates through your entire body.

When you finally open your eyes, Aizawa rises up, your slick glistening on his plump, pink lips. You suck in a sharp breath as your chest rises and falls, your eyes never leaving his as he crawls on top of you, his hand moving to his own pants as he palms himself through the fabric.

"Let me-" You reach your hand out to touch him, but he shakes his head.

"Baby, I can't not be inside you any longer." In one swift movement, he slides his pants off, along with his boxer briefs. He takes his length in his hand, letting the tip graze your still sensitive post orgasm pussy. "My girl is still so sensitive, hm?"

You let out a whimper, your hands pressing to his shirt as you pull on the fabric, pulling it over his head. His hair is in a now messy ponytail, thanks to your fingers, and you swear you've never seen anything more beautiful.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?"

You look down at his length in his hand, and fuck, he's big and girthy. You nod, swallowing some spit that gathered in your mouth.

Shota Aizawa is an attentive, communicative lover. He doesn't speak much outside of the bedroom, but inside - god damn.

He slowly guides himself inside of you, his eyes rolling back as he feels your spongy walls grip him, swallowing him.

"That's it, kitten. You're taking me so well." He used his free hand to run his fingers through your hair, caressing your cheek as he pushes his hips into you, filling you entirely to the hilt.

"Sh-Shota, -" You gasp as you feel him in his entirety as he plants a soft kiss on your parted lips.

"I'm gonna start moving, baby." He grunts, moving his hips to create momentum, his hand still caressing your cheek. "You're fucking perfect."

As he picks up his pace, you get lost in the pleasure. You feel like you're one with him, unlike any other parter you've had.

Aizawa keeps kissing you through this, mumbling affirmations as his own eyes roll back.

"So tight. So perfect."

"She takes me so well, like she was made for me."

"I've dreamt about this pussy."

Next thing you know, he has you in a mating press. Your legs at your head, his thick cock sheathing into you, watching him disappear inside of you.

His pupils are blown as his his jaw hangs open, completely in a trance as his hands wrap around your ankles, pushing them down.

"Sh-Shota -" You're breathless at this point, struggling to make a cohearant thought.

"I know, baby. I-I'm close." His dark eyes roll back as he thrusts become more messy, his hips almost stuttering as he empties himself inside of you.

As he climaxes, his dark brows furrow and his eyes roll back, a truly beautiful sight.

As your insides become coated in white, Aizawa finally slows down, with one last slow, deep thrust inside of you before he pulls out, rolling onto his back. He brings his palm to his forehead, breathing heavily.

"I can't believe I deprived myself for so long." He finally spoke, his red dusted cheeks fading slightly.

When you turn to look at him, he has a love struck, dumb ass look on his face. An uncharacteristic smile on his face as he pulls you closer to him, kissing your temple. "You're perfect."

Your insides truly feel rearranged. After some time, both of you falling asleep but waking back up soon after, he pecks your lips gently.

"I won't be depriving myself anymore." His voice is soft as he nuzzles his face into your neck. Your hand find its way to his hair, letting his ponytail down as a soft hum leaves your lips.

"You better not."

About 15 minutes later, you both hear a soft meow at the door, followed by sounds of claws on the door. You're laid on Aizawa's bare chest as he traces random shapes on your skin.

"Sorry kid, daddy had to take care of mommy." Aizawa smirks, kissing your temple before pulling his underwear on, padding to the door and opening it, letting Salem into the bedroom.

[maxinesgun]

hii, i loveddd ur last fic and was wondering if u could write jealous (but sweet) shane?? if ur up for it ofc ! either way btw I LOVE UR WRITING + THANK U FOR WRITING SHANE HER FICS ARE SO RARE

jealousy, jealousy ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

shane mccutcheon x fem!reader

jealous!shane, smoking, some fluff, established relationship, oblivious reader, implied nsfw at the end. wc 2.1k ᡣ𐭩

a/n: tysm anon!! love this request because i was definitely planning to write jealous shane are you kidding me? also sorry that the writing has slowed down, school has started back up again and I've been sick for the last week so I've been fighting for my life

It was almost the last straw for you when you reached into your bag and found that your wallet wasn’t there.

The first had been sleeping through your alarm, and the second was when someone had cut you off on the road, prompting you to let out a very rational string of curses. After throwing on the fist decent outfit you’d found in your closet and rushing out of the house faster than you probably ever had in your life, all you wanted was coffee to give you the strength to last through this day. That was why you’d taken your lunch break to head to your and Shane’s favourite coffee shop, conveniently close to your place of work and the gym she frequented.

Apparently, some caffeine was too much to ask for.

“God, I’m sorry, I must have forgotten my wallet,” you sighed to the guy behind the register, feeling more defeated than annoyed as you continued to rummage through your purse, as if expecting it to suddenly appear. You cast a glance over your shoulder to the glass doors hopefully, but Shane wasn’t here yet. She’d texted you saying she’d be there in five minutes or so.

You gave him an apologetic smile and were about to go sit and wait at one of the tables when a voice and a light tap on your shoulder drew your attention. “Excuse me, is this yours?”

The voice belonged to a pretty woman with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and a smattering of freckles across her high cheekbones. Her smile was sweet and friendly, and she was holding out to you what was, sure enough, your wallet. 

You let out a relieved breath, giving her a look of gratitude as you took it from her. “Wow, I thought I lost it. Thank you. Seriously.”

“Found it out in the parking lot,” she said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. “Trust me, it’s happened to me a few times.” The small laugh she let out was bubbly, the kind that made you want to automatically return it.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said, holding up the wallet and flashing her a grin before moving back to the register to order your and Shane’s regulars. 

You stood by the counter to wait, and when the woman finished ordering for herself, she moved to stand beside you. 

“Heading to work?” she asked conversationally, her eyes flicking over your work attire.

You nodded, glancing down at yourself briefly. “Yeah. I’m on my break, actually,” you said with a smile. “I needed a coffee fix. If one more thing went wrong for me today, I’d be driving off a cliff right now.” 

She laughed again, a little too hard, in your opinion, at what hadn’t even been all that funny. Still, the smile on your lips grew a bit. Maybe you were just underestimating your own charm, here. “So you work around here?” she asked, to which you nodded. “So do I, actually. I own a flower shop on Millers.”

“No way! I’m down there a lot. You’ll have to tell me what it’s called so I can check it out sometime.”

The conversation flowed easily, drifting from discussing work to what you did for fun nearby. You were a little surprised by how easy it was, normally not being one for small talk in the slightest, but she was warm and attentive, reaching over to touch your arm once or twice as she laughed at some small quip you made.

The door swung open in your peripheral, and you glanced over to see Shane striding over to you with that relaxed, easy swagger she had. You shot her a grin as she made her way over, and she returned it, the corner of her lips crooking up, though you noticed that her eyes were flicking between you and the woman in front of you questioningly.

“Hey,” you greeted her, holding out the coffee you’d ordered for her.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” she said a little breathlessly, her hand brushing over your back lightly as she took the cup. A light, casually intimate touch. You were so caught up in smiling up at her in admiration that you’d forgotten momentarily that there was someone else standing right there. “Who’s this?” Shane asked, looking from you to the woman with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Oh! Right. This is…” you gestured to the woman, who was now glancing between you and Shane with a faint smile, but your words trailed off as you drew a blank. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name,” you said with a laugh.

“It’s Sam,” she offered with a chuckle. “Or Samantha. But Sam’s fine.”

“Shane,” she introduced herself with a tight smile when Sam’s eyes turned back to her expectantly.

“Sam found my wallet. Apparently I dropped it in the parking lot,” you told Shane, who was taking a sip of her coffee, eyes roving over Sam as if sizing her up. “She was just telling me about the flower shop she owns downtown. We probably passed it before. Isn’t that cool?”

“Very cool,” Shane said in a noncommittal tone, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“You should definitely drop by sometime! I’d love to see you there,” Sam said brightly, eyes focused on you. “Bright yellow awning. Can’t miss it. Here, I’ll give you my card.” She began digging around in the satchel hanging from her shoulder. As she did, you felt Shane’s hand on your back again. It snaked around your waist, tugging you against her subtly.

When Sam straightened up, holding out a small business card between two fingers, you took it, eyes scanning over the picture on the front. “Don’t feel obligated to come, of course. I just thought… you know,” she said. You could feel her eyes on you as you flipped it over, murmuring your compliments about how it looked like a cute place. “That is such a pretty necklace on you, by the way,” she smiled, causing you to look up in some surprise as you touched a hand to your chest, flattered by the sudden compliment.

You thanked her just as Shane abruptly turned to you, reaching out to take the business card. “Can I see this?” She took it, studying it for all of two seconds. “Yep, there it is. Yellow awning,” she said flatly, her tone dripping sarcasm as she held up the card. She was smiling, but it was unnaturally tense—the kind of smile you plastered on to hide your irritation. “That is really great. Would you excuse us for a second?”

You looked at her, your brows slightly narrowed in confusion. She clearly wasn’t happy, you could see that much, but you didn’t know why she’d be in such a mood. Before you could open your mouth to say something to her, Sam did first.

“Of course, you probably have somewhere to be! Don’t let me hold you up.” She flashed another sweet smile at the both of you, picking up her coffee. “So nice to meet you!”

You had hardly finished returning her goodbye before you were practically being whisked out the door by Shane, her hand on your waist gentle but firm. “Hey—What are you doing? We just got here,” you protested as she pushed the door open, leading you outside.

“We can sit in my car,” she responded shortly, as if that made any sense at all. You relented, following her over to her car and watching as she pulled the door open and ducked in. You slid into the passenger seat beside her, the doors kept wide open.

You watched as she set her coffee down in the cupholder and immediately began rummaging around in the armrest, the sharp line of her jaw tensed. “Shane,” you said, but either she didn’t hear you or was too distracted to respond as she pulled out her pack of cigarettes, promptly pulling one out and sticking it between her lips.

Your brows raised slightly as she grabbed her lighter and lit up. She rarely smoked in the middle of the day like this. “Shane,” you repeated, a bit louder this time.

“What?” she asked innocently, looking over at you with the cigarette dangling from her lips.

“You want to tell me what that was? What, you didn’t like her?”

She took a long drag before just staring at you for a moment, as if unable to tell whether or not you were joking. “She was hitting on you.”

“What?” You laughed in disbelief. “No she wasn’t.” Sure, she’d been all smiles and had paid you a nice compliment, but that didn’t mean it was flirting.

Shane gave you that deadpan look again. “Yes, she was.”

“Maybe she was just being friendly. How do you know she’s not straight?”

She scoffed. “She’s not straight.”

“She could be straight.”

“I saw where her eyes were going.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, attempting to play at indignant but unable to help the grin that played across your lips. “What are you talking about?” 

Shane exhaled, a puff of smoke unfurling from her lips, as her gaze fell very pointedly to your chest before moving back up, the motion exaggerated. 

“She was looking at my necklace. She complimented it,” you protested, rolling your eyes.

“Are you kidding? That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book,” Shane pointed out, exasperated. “You want to check out someone’s tits, but you can’t be too obvious, so you focus on the jewelry. ‘Oh, hey, I like your necklace. It looks so pretty on you.’ See what I did there?”

Your gaze trailed from her to a spot out the window as you fell back against your seat, considering her words. It did make sense. And Shane would know, after all. She had probably pulled it herself once or twice. 

“Huh,” was all you said, your mind turning over the previous interaction in light of this new information. You weren’t displeased by it; it had been awhile since you’d been flirted with. Or maybe you got hit on all the time but just completely failed to notice, if today was any indication.

“Yeah. Huh.” You felt her gaze lingering on you for a few moments before she turned back to the window, taking another drag. “N’ since when have you ever wanted to go to a flower shop?” she mumbled, disgruntled.

The grouchiness in the remark caught your attention, and you breathed a laugh, leaning over on the armrest. “Oh, come on,” you said teasingly, your grin only growing when she shot you an unamused look. You couldn’t help it—it was cute, the way she was pouting, the little scowl on her face. “I don’t, babe.”

“That’s not what you said in there,” she said stubbornly.

“I promise.” You leaned forward to pinch her cheeks in your hand, just to make her pay attention to you, to which she batted your hand away lightly. Your heart gave a sudden clench of affection as your eyes roamed over her face. “I do kinda like it when you’re jealous, though.” Your voice was soft, teasing.

“I’m not jealous,” she muttered, huffing a little. “I just didn’t like seeing her be all… touchy. And smiley.” She made a face.

You plucked the cigarette out of her hand, leaning back in your seat. With a sound of protest, Shane reached for it, grinning despite herself as she practically fell over you. She braced herself with an arm against the seat, your faces inches apart. “Give that back.”

You held the cigarette out of reach, your other hand coming up to cup her face, your thumb brushing over her lips. God, she was pretty. “You’re right. Only you get to do those things,” you said as you pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “No one else.” You kissed her again, a little longer this time, and you heard her give a low grumble in her throat as she kissed you back. At the same time, her hand tangled with yours to retrieve the cigarette.

“Yeah?” she said in a low voice when she pulled back, her eyes still glued to your mouth. Her head lifted briefly to give a quick glance around before looking back down at you, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “You want to prove it to me?”

The corner of your lips quirked up, your stomach giving a little flutter at the way she was staring at you. “Prove it to you how?”

She smirked, knowing you knew exactly what she meant. “How much time do you have left?”

You quickly dug around for your phone, clicking it on to check the time, then promptly dropped it back into your purse. You grabbed her cigarette again, this time earning no protest, and tossed it out the door, swinging a leg out and using the heel of your boot to grind it into the pavement. “Enough.”

[uhhhj13iguess]

oh my god, you, y-you look stunning

avenger!peter parker x fem!reader

peter 'friendly neighborhood spiderman' parker drooling at the sight of you when picking you up for the stark gala. major pining. actually just exclusively pining

wc: ~0.9k

part two: go get her, kid

part three: impossible to behave around (smutty smut smut)

masterlist

peter put the finishing touches on his curls, doing his best to follow the instructions tony had given him. he wasn’t used to doing his hair, let alone used to the rest of his get-up for the evening. peter couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a three-piece suit to something. he had never been to a stark gala before, but he knew it was a bigger deal than anything he could even imagine.

he shot himself one last look in the mirror, running his hands over the custom-tailored jacket tony had gifted him. he’d never admit it, but he understood cashmere now.

he threw his final belongings in his pocket as he did one last sweep of his room and made a hasty exit down the hallway towards your room in the stark compound.

he was beyond anxious. every one of his senses was on edge (even more than the normal 1000%). he stood in front of your door, hands shaking as he brought his fist up to knock gently. he rapped in a succession of five knocks, signaling it was him on the other side.

peter rocked on his heels as he awaited your answer, his impatient mind going a thousand miles an hour.

and suddenly, it was going zero. as soon as peter caught sight of you opening the door, it was the only thing on his mind: past, present, future.

he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your figure, taking in the entirety of the grace and elegance that adorned you. you stood in front of him, a gorgeous red silk dress ornamenting your body in the best way possible.

his color. you were wearing his color.

and you had your hair down, which he rarely ever saw, and suddenly he had a preferred hairstyle on you. everything about you made his breath catch in his throat, and he felt like he was under a spell.

“… peter?”

“oh my god you, y-you look stunning,” peter responded swiftly in practically a moan, mouth hanging agape like the dog you had turned him into.

your face flushed, a smirk creeping on your lips as you reached over to grab your purse.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, pete.”

you stepped out of your doorway, nearly having to push him backwards to leave your room.

you laughed, “are you ready to head out?”

peter nodded his head eagerly, bowing his arm out for you to link. you did so contently, and the two of you made your way to the elevator, nerves overpowering as you walked with him.

the tension between the two of you was thick, both walking through the compound with aching silence. your heels echoed against the tile as you made your way to the main entrance where happy was waiting with a car. you looked up at peter as you made your way into the lobby, his head turning immediately to look at you as he caught your glance in his peripheral. the moment your eyes locked, every last bit of air was vacuumed from your lungs. you could tell he felt the same way, his adam's apple bobbing as he took a heavy swallow. you gave him a smile, but not an innocent one at that. no, he knew the smile was filled with intention. he only hoped he was right about what said intention was.

happy's loud clap snapped them out of their trance. "okay! you two are not the only ones i have to pick up, so if we could just, pause the weird horny moment and get in the car, that would be awesome."

peter's cheeks flushed immediately, shocked with himself at how easily he was completely and utterly distracted by you. you had him under a spell, he was sure of it, but he couldn't seem to care.

you laughed and apologized to happy, rushing peter towards the limo. he ran ahead of you to grab the door, holding your hand as you lowered yourself into the vehicle. you looked up at your hand in his, the feeling of his skin on yours burning your senses. he looked so good in his suit, so strong and big. you shook yourself free from the trance, scooting further in to allow peter room on the seat.

he slid in after you, shutting the door behind him and never breaking eye contact. he let out a shaky breath and chewed on the inside of his lip, forcing himself to take deep breaths even just looking at you.

he was snapped out of it, jumping in his seat at the sound of a door slamming, signaling happy in the driver's seat. he looked up to make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and let out a huff of air at seeing the older man wink at him before rolling up the privacy screen.

he stopped it an inch before closing, "sam and bucky will be in that backseat in less than five minutes. behave yourselves."

tempted to part 2 to this with little plot, full smut because needy and pussywhipped peter is just gorgeous