#my little form is but a (blue) wreck | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mydearlybeloathed · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: even as you grow older, you'll always be his baby sister

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: strawhats x sanjissister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: lowercase intentional, cursing, allusions to insecurities

𝐚/𝐧: this is basically just sanji curing my childhood wish for a big brother. i have more ideas about how sanji would be at his wits end with a reckless little sister so look out for those hehe

i imagine sanji is two years older than you, but it never felt like it. you and him were never apart for too long, more by obligation than choice.

so it was no surprise when sanji dragged confused little you with him as he hid from the pirates invading the ship, only outing your hiding place in the name of saving his food from oregano.

you'd hurried after him, of course; that's all you knew to do at such a young age.

and when zeff had sanji up against the wall, being so young meant you also knew only one thing to do in this situation: you bit zeff, latching your teeth around his arm and drawing blood from his broken skin.

zeff howled and very nearly threw you into the wall as well, before his eyes zeroed in on you, this little girl with wild eyes and a mighty strong jaw. he only jerked you off him, then, staring from you to sanji then back to you. "wha—? what kind of little gremlin just bites a man?!" your eyes were steely. "I'm not a gremlin." then, "bitch." though it was clear you didn't understand what it meant, probably catching it from the other chefs of the now sieged ship. gritting his teeth, zeff continued on his shouting. it made you and sanji angry, and zeff marveled at how your expressions were twin–like, despite your difference in appearance. then, the ship had wrecked, and it all went downhill from there.

sanji always made sure you’d eaten more than him on that damn rock, even when you fought him and scratched him as he forced a morsel of bread into your mouth.

he'd held your hand as you cried the first ten days, and he had mourned when on the eleventh, your eyes took on a dead sort of sheen, like you were now a decade older in the head.

it was unnerving, really.

sanji learned a lot on that rock. like what it meant to be the responsible one, or at least more responsible than you.

sanji just wanted you to listen, but it seemed like all his words went in one ear and out the other. you wouldn't eat despite all his begging, only staring at him with that horridly blank stare and pushing the food back toward him. tears started to form at the corners of his eyes as he held up the very last piece of bread. "please," he begged. "please just eat it." you shook you head, forcing the tears to stream down his cheeks. that broke through your indifference, your frown deepening as you inched closer to him. "we'll half it," you offered, taking his shaking hand and guiding him to split the bread, taking one half and waiting for him to calm down before you ate in silence. you really did feel older than him, and he didn't like it. only when that night fell did he realize you were simply a very, very good actor. your whimpers were like thunder in his ears as he sprang up from a featherlight sleep, his eyes locking on your quivering form just a hair's breadth away. "y/n?" he whispered, shaking your shoulder. you spooked awake, and in the reflection of moonlight he saw glinting tears traced down your face. "nightmare?" your nod and sniffle tore him up inside, and in seconds he was hugging you to his chest, telling you stories till he was sure you were at least sleeping better than him. "someday," he said, "we'll find a place where we'll never go hungry. where every flavor and ingredient can be found. the all blue. i'll take us there, and we'll never starve again." you were asleep by the time he started plotting to raid zeff's side of the rock in the morning. it had been sanji who guarded you from seeing the stump left of zeff's leg, ignoring you when you asked him to explain what was happening.

growing up on the baratie was an experience, for sure.

your only company were the crooks who worked in the kitchen alongside you and sanji, and you found them amusing company indeed.

especially when they started teaching you how to be a remarkable little con-artist. once in your late teens, it wasn't long before you'd abandoned your work in the kitchen to wait tables.

not only were the tips amazing to pocket away, but your charming smile and whimsical attitude made you a master of sympathy.

there isn't a customer you can't placate, a fight you can't break up; sanji would never admit it, but you'd save him from one too many brawls with just a single simper.

it was easy to hold that over his head, but for some reason, sanji never let it keep him from completely wrecking your social life.

to say sanji is protective of you is the understatement of the century; you'd be the first to attest to that.

it was growing to be annoying and just plain inconvenient, if you're being honest.

was it too much to ask for some time to yourself... with the company of a horny teenage boy... in your quarters... alone?

"sanji!" you hissed, face bright red as your brother dragged you and this young sailor boy--you hadn't caught his name--out of a broom cupboard, his grip on the boy's collar deathly. throwing the boy aside, sanji stormed back up to him. "did you touch my sister? you think you can just take advantage of her like tha'?" you ran your hands over your face and rushed to separate sanji, shaking in anger, from the boy, shaking in his boots. "stop! he wasn't takin' advantage of me, sanji. hell, i started it!" "y-yeah!" the sailor boy piped in, cowering behind you. "she was all over me and—" "shut up," you and sanji said in tandem, shooting the boy matching glares that sent the poor sailor darting for his crew's ship.

as the years dragged on, you and sanji couldn't deny that the idea of remaining on the baratie all your lives would be... well... sad.

you wanted more for yourselves—you specifically wanted to get sanji away from zeff's constant criticism, no matter how well–meaning it was.

but the years really were dragging, and could you ever really bare to leave the man you'd nearly called father on several occasions? could you leave the shit-hole restaurant that raised you in it's wooden arms?

probably not. you'd probably die washing dishes (snore) and burning water (whoops) and charming the pants off grumpy old men (yuck).

that is, it always seemed that way until a grand vessel with a goat for a masthead docked at the baratie.

the day had been it's usual level of boring, until two customers decided to have a little row which heated up with every word shot back at each other.

you, having a good track record, rushed forth to prevent the fight just itching to break out. but today was not your lucky day.

"gentlemen," you grinned. stepping between the two men, you held up your hands and settled each of them with batted eyes and a soft expression. "what's this about, hmm?" sanji loitered at a nearby table, refilling drinks with one eye on you. he was ripely kicked out of the kitchen, snug in his waiter's jacket. one of them huffed, "he's at my table!" "i don't see your name on it!" the other snapped. your patience wanned, your thoughts screaming man-child. "i'm sure we can work something out. just please, don't start anything in the restaurant." the first man seemed to consider you, his eyes dragging up and down your form, but any progress you might have made was destroyed by the next second. "i ain't movin', girl. he can go shit 'imself in the corner." that was how you winded up directly between them, your hands pushing against either chest to keep them separated, your heartrate accelerating as they pressed in on you as if you weren't even there. grunting, you called out, "brother?" in seconds, sanji had a grip on your sleeve in one hand and a fistful of the first man's collar in the other. he jerked you away from them and swiftly shoved the men away from each other. "sister," he said in turn, cracking his neck as the men continued to not learn their lesson. "take these rolls to table four, yeah?" you didn't need to be told twice, swiping the tray of bread from his arm and beelining for a booth housing a motley crew of people. behind you, grunts and winces and crashing could be heard, followed by the thick silence of your brother's victory. you set the tray down on the table, shooting a tight lipped smile up at the guests. a boy wearing a peculiar straw hat locked you in place with his bright eyes and wondered aloud, "he's a great fighter." "yep," you quipped. "a real hero. any drinks for the handsome crew?"

it turned out the boy with the straw hat was crazy: he intended to become king of the pirates.

you admired his tenacity, of course, but really? he had a death wish.

still, the more you spoke to luffy and the more you observed his character, being king of the pirates didn't seem so crazy. he had guts, that was for sure.

as crazy as it sounded, you started to believe he could do it.

so it was really no surprise you said yes when luffy asked you to join his crew.

he had already asked sanji the day before—before luffy's swordsman friend got obliterated by a warlord of the sea.

you didn't know him, but when you rushed onto the going merry after zeff an sanji, and you saw the bloodied man lying there, you could barely move a muscle.

you were never good around the air of death, and it was all around roronoa zoro, lingering like a knock you expected but never came. so you couldn't move, not even when they moved zoro to a bed, out of sight. not when zeff and sanji retreated back to the baratie.

you snapped back to life at the sound of luffy's voice, finding him leaning down to be directly eye level with you. he was still speaking, and it felt sort of like being under water, till finally, you surfaced. "sorry what?" "are you okay?" he asked, brows knit. you pondered your response while looking anywhere but his face. "yeah, sorry. i... i don't like feeling helpless, i guess." you vaguely gestured to where zoro's limp body had laid upon the nearby table. "being out of control makes me wig out." luffy tilted his head. "why're you out of control?" "because," you nearly laughed. "your friend is dying." immediately, you regretted your word choice, hating how the light fizzled from his eyes. "he's not dying," luffy snapped back. "he was injured and now he's healing. why does everyone insist he's dying?" you shuffled on your feet. "right, sorry." when you met his eyes again, there wasn't any frustration like you assumed there would be. instead, he settled you with a curious look. "you don't have to keep apologizing." luffy was an odd type of pirate, you thought with a forced little grin. "then how will people know i'm sorry?" he smiled. "fair point." taking a hold of your sleeve, luffy started to drag you deeper into the going merry, leading you right to where zoro was laid. his grip on you loosened as he passed into the room, but you stayed cemented in the doorway. nami was there, sullen looking. you watched as nami berated luffy and stormed away, shoulder checking you on the way out, leaving luffy smileless. that didn't sit well with you. walking up beside him, you took a kneel just as he did, and turned your eyes on zoro's pallid face. "hello," you murmured. silence was your reply. "i'm y/n. you don't know me... your friends care a lot about you. it'd be... sad, if you died." luffy stiffened at your side. "which you won't! i've heard of you. no way the demon pirate hunter will let—let a scratch get him..." as your rambling died down, luffy slowly shifted to look at you, all serious for a moment. unnerved, you chuckled nervously. "what?" a tiny grin worked its way onto his lips, a glimmer in his eyes. "will you join my crew?" you nearly laughed. "luffy, you don't want me." "yeah. i do. why else would i ask?" "i'm useless." "you're kind," he said, shutting you up as a flush bloomed in your cheeks. "not everyone can say that."

a long story short, you joined luffy's crew of strawhats right along sanji.

your parting from the baratie had been watery, to say the least. whilst sanji shouted curses at zeff and stormed out to luffy's ship, you stood shaky as zeff huffed, his eyes roaming toward you.

you very nearly tripped head over foot in your sprint to wrap him in a hug. he was the only father you'd ever had, really. leaving him was bittersweet.

the going merry was a very nice place to call home, in your opinion.

you were a jack of all trades amidst the crew, choosing to do odd jobs around the ship. most days, you found yourself asking around with a little list in your journal, taking note of everyone’s grocery needs and even keeping track of the ship’s supply inventory.

not only that, but you found your crewmates tended to lack the sense to take care of themselves in a timely manner.

that is, none of them could be faster than your attentive eye, and no one was safe from your protective inclinations.

nami was attentive, but she tended to disassociate, and when she did it was very hard to get her back. she would go on for hours, working herself to the brink of exhaustion, not accepting even a sip of water. (she couldn't stop you, however, from forcing a cup of ice water down her throat. even she was intimidated by your determination to hydrate her).

then there was zoro, who absolutely refused to allow anyone to help him dress his wounds; and since he wasn't the best at it, you often stared at his haphazard bandages with fear of infection. he brushed you off enough times to invoke your wrath upon him. (zoro quit refusing after the first three times you ambushed him, wrapping your arm around his neck and blocking his airway).

you always listened to usopp's stories, but oftentimes you grew tired of the repetitive and clearly fake tall tales. you wanted to know his real stories, and you told him so. he'd laughed awkwardly and replied that he wasn't interesting enough for that. (he was fairly surprised at your insistence, and was warmed at your fascination with the silly story of how he met kaya).

luffy, your captain, was a walking migraine most days. he was smart, but just as brave, and jumped to action faster than you could process. it left you stressed beyond what you could handle, and this alone was enough to make luffy more cautious. (he never wanted to make you unhappy, so you'd inadvertently given him some of your common sense).

finally, sanji, who you'd been dealing with all your life. you knew all his tells, whether it was baking macarons when he was upset or going eerily silent for far too long. you always knew what he needed, and when he needed it. (more often than not all he needed was a compliment, and not just from some doe–eyed woman at a bar; a word of sentiment from his baby sister could drag him out of any stupor).

overtime, the crew took to calling you their boatswain. after all, you fit the job description, and you took the title with pride.

as time flew by with the strawhats, you began to listen to the dreams and aspirations of the others, and began to wonder what exactly you wanted out of life. the all blue was sanji’s dream… so what was yours?

the going merry was docked at a friendly port for the next few days, meaning the crew was free to explore and roam the city as they pleased. you, however, remained behind that very first night.

as far as you knew, the others had decided upon a bar for the night’s celebration. The quiet dwelling over the ship was calming, and from your sweat crisscrossed on the afterdeck you had a wide view of the stars.

your notebook rested on your belly, pen tight between your fingers, thoughts moving a million miles an hour. there hadn’t been time to get shopping done that day, so you would rouse the ship early the next morning and assign them to fetch groceries in pairs of two—just to be safe.

and though the heavy thinking could wait till the morning, you were stuck in a spiral of inventory and lists. it was… exhausting, and offered little to no fulfillment. still, it was what you did to help.

A familiar patter of boots broke your reverie, and you peeked up to find sanji coming to loom over you, his hands shoved in his pockets. his suit jacket was draped over one shoulder and his hair was a mess—he wasn’t drunk though, which was a very good sign.

silently, he disposed of his jacket and laid down beside you, resting his hands behind his head. for a split second, you got a glimpse of the damn rock imbeedded in your memory for all time, and how sanji used to make up stories about the stars.

since then, you’d come to know their true stories. you knew every constellation by name, having memorized them upon the baratie and spoken to them every lonely night. the stars had been your friends in your youth, and though your conversations with them were few and far between now, they always shined for you. so as far as you knew, you were never alone.

sanji raised an arm and pointed in a random direction. “bet you can’t name that one.”

a grin worked its way up your face. “how much?”

he turned his head, eyes boring into you. “if you can’t, you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“that’s hardly fair.”

“take it or leave it.”

you huffed, but complied, glaring up at the sky. “cassiopeia. cursed to remain in the stars for claiming her daughter was more beautiful than the nerieds.” you kissed your teeth. “hardly a punishment. i’d love to be in the stars.”

there was a weight behind your words; a truth so deep you had to take a long breath to recover. wetting your lips, you asked your brother, “do you think, someday, i could study them?”

“why someday?”

“well, you need supplies. tools. there’s only so much our eyes can tell from down here.”

“tools,” he murmured. “so, you want to study the stars?”

the words flooded from your lips. “i want to know everything about them. i want to know why they shine, how far they are, what’s beyond them… can we get there?” you sighed into a smile. “there are some cities that have observatories dedicated to astronomy, but you’ve got to be some kind of noble scholar to get in.”

sanji listened, and he listened well. He laid by your side and listened to you tell him about the stars till nami and zoro came lugging a drunk usopp between them, luffy taking the lead. he remained in thought for most of the night, and sought out nami to ask about expenditures, and then set out to find luffy.

it was safe to say you weren’t quite as upset at sanji and luffy for disappearing all evening when they returned at sunset, some beri short, with a gift in hand.

you stood slack jawed as they revealed a beautiful telescope, the metal polished and bright and shining. how they had managed to sneak it past you and set it up on the afterdeck was beyond you, but you hardly cared to ask.

you threw your arms around your brother, whispering your thank yous, and quickly turned to tackle your captain in a hug just as tight. the night to follow was marked by your awed sighs and the excited way you told the crew about ursa major and ursa minor, then about castor and pollux, and so on till you could barely keep your eyes open.

and sanji would never say it out loud, but he admired you. you turned out pretty damn good despite having him as your big brother. someday, you’d reach the stars. he knew that for certain. he could only hope you’d come visit once or twice.

“g’night,” he muttered to the crew as he stood, making his way over to where you’d drifted off against a barrel. he scooped you up in his arms and was veyr careful to not wake you as he made his way to your and nami’s quarters.

sanji rested you down and moved to take off your boots and pull the blanket over you, and he found himself frozen all of a sudden. lips pursed, he patted your hair, and turned to go. at the door, he paused and looked back. you slept so soundly for once, something he was so very glad for. he wasn’t blind to how you’d been overworking yourself.

perhaps he would talk to you about that in the morning, but for now, he simply smiled. “good night, sister. love you.”

and whispered back to him, just in time for him to hear: “g’night, sanj. i love you.”

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strayflowersstarsandlove · 14 days ago

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Scooby-Doo (bangchan)

random author's note: idk bangchan has been bias wrecking me so hard lately and i had this whole scenario in my head for weeks help like man's so fucking sweet and fine ugh

WARNING: heaps of soft!chan content ahead proceed with caution ok bye

"Y/n...I don't -i don't think this is right?". Entirely too cute for his own good, Chan sits across from you, his legs spread apart on the floor as he stubbornly tries to piece together a festive banner made of crepe paper, struggling quite a bit with how much it's creasing and ripping at the edges.

He holds up a scraggly piece of paper and looks confusedly at you while you try your best not to laugh at him.

It's a late afternoon, only one day ahead of the charity event that's going to be held at the café you work at. Your manager had kindly asked you to help her out with decorations but considering how cramped and cold the staff backroom is at the place, you decided to bring a few arts and crafts materials at home.

And Chan being Chan he wanted to help because of course he did.

The whole project is meant to raise awareness and funds for young kids with disabilities, the main charity organisation had reached out to your manager just the other day and you loved her for jumping at the chance to help out and let them host an event at the café, you really did.

What you loved a little less was how crazy it was driving you trying to make the decorations from scratch. Perhaps you had overestimated just how capable you are. Just an itty bitty tiny little bit.

"Can you believe we've been sitting here for over 2 hours and only got like ... 3 banners done? We're screwed", you chuckle, readjusting your uncomfortable bum on the confetti and shiny paper covered floor all around you, multiple coloured markers and scissors and glitter jars scattered all over, along with failed prototypes of various types of decorations.

"Mmh ... we're the dream team aren't we?", Chan giggles embarassed, looping a string through the more intact piece of another banner, finally succeeding without it falling apart: "look!! It worked! Finally!", he exclaims enthusiastically, looking so proud of himself.

How fucking cute is he! Your heart literally melts at the sight, a soft thrumming against your chest in seeing this beautiful man being so hyped over arts and crafts.

He didn't even have to come and help. He had so little free time you felt so bad for occupying his sparse nights off with this project but he had insisted on helping you so much you just couldn't refuse. Besides, him tackling you to the ground in a fit of tickles and giggles really didn't give you much of an option to say no.

You sigh contentedly, just looking at his progress and his satisfied little face as he tries to proceed onto the next banner, "hey do we have blue glitter? I kind of want to add some to this one", he asks, perusing his perimeter in search of the blue glitter glue tube, which you locate at the corner of the couch and pass it over to him, "ah there it is, thanks baby", he mumbles, still concentrated on his task but grateful enough to you that he kisses your hand once before taking the glue.

Endeared, awash in warmth deep within your belly, you tilt your head to the side and smile softly at him: "Channie ... make love to me".

Pursing those bratz doll lips in a pout, Chan looks at you stupefied, "I'm sorry what?", he says in just a murmur, blinking at you confusedly. You giggle lightly, struggling to hide the blush you know is forming atop the apples of your cheeks, though you are resolute. Utterly convinced you just made the right call.

And so you reteirate, staring straight into his kind eyes: "I want you to make love to me, if that's alright with you".

It shouldn't come as the biggest surprise, really. You had been dating for a little while and had been intimate before, just not to the fullest extent. He knew you weren't experienced in the slightest and he never NEVER pushed you beyond your limits. Always respectful and continuosly asking for permission he had slowly taken your hand and guided you through intimacy up until the extent you felt comfortable to each time.

You distintictly remember confessing you had never had sex with a guy in your very few mild, fleeting past relationships, you can still clearly conjure up the soft look on his face, the acceptance in knowing you were a little shy and a lot scared, mostly you were afraid he was going to give up on you cause you weren't willing to just experience your first time so casually and he'd get impatient and insufferable like the person you were dating previously.

But Chan was ...well he was just Chan. He was your best friend before he was your boyfriend, he already knew how fragile your heart was and how you needed alllll the reassurance and safety and stability before going all in.

"You have nothing to worry about, I'm not going anywhere whether you want to eventually have sex with me or not. If and when you want to, then I'll be just so honoured and grateful you trusted me enough".

Slow, baby steps. A natural progression in your relationship that bloomed and flourished into something so beautiful and safe, loving him came as easy as breathing.

You had given him no timeline and down the road he just gauged your reactions to him and how far you were willing to go each and everytime either of you initiated anything, the more comfortable you grew the more you felt like your confidence in both yourself and this relationship grew along with it.

Chan's whole incredolous face lights up in the biggest, most endeared smile, eyes squinting, perfect teeth on full show and those dimples to die for digging at his cheeks, "are you ... oh my god out of nowhere? are you .. are you sure? like one hundred percent?", he inquires and you nod in agreement, your heartbeat feeling both very steady and erratic at the same time.

A brief moment of silence falls upon you and Chan just looks so ridiculously elated and gobsmacked he just starts giggling adorably, "oh gosh c'me here, let me give you a hug, I need to hold you", he exclaims all smiley amd gushy which only makes you weak in the knees.

Therefore you crawl.

Across the floor and then in his lap, his arms enveloping your whole body the second you wrap yourself around him, arms lacing around his neck, legs around his torso, your flushed cheeks buried in his neck.

"Ooh you're blushing, how cute", Chan coos, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, tickling your skin, his hands roaming on your back in gentle caresses, "are you positive you really want to?", he asks one more time, clearly trying to assess if it was a spur of the moment thing or if you're actually sure about your decision, "yeah, yeah I promise I am", you reassure, swallowing the slight nervousness down your throat.

Chan cups your cheeks very gently and kisses you in between both of your guys' smiles, he holds your face and your neck delicately as he kisses you more and more, those gorgeous soft lips melting into your mouth again and again, sweet sighs escaping him when you reach for his hair, tangling the longer, curlier ends at the nape of his neck in between your fingers, unconsciously straddling him in the process, which does provoke a tension in his pants.

"Baby-", Chan breathes in, still a whisper away from your lips, "i'm getting so hot", he chuckles, the tips of his ears going redder and redder, "I'm going to take off my shirt okay?", you nod briefly and detach yourself from him just enough so he can remove his t-shirt.

He's statuary. That much you already knew. You love looking at his bare skin, taking in the hard work he consistently put into sculpting his chest and his abs, your fingers already twitching to reach out and run all over him.

You also really appreciate how he subtly still asked for your consent and proceeded to take one layer off first, putting himself in a more vulnerable position first so you didn't have to.

Eyes sparkling while looking at you looking at him, he guides you right back to his chest so you can press yourself up to him and kiss and pat and tickle his exposed skin, which obviously has him in shambles and giggles in no time: "hahaha that's so tickly help haha", he squeaks and oh my god you could not love him more right now. So silly and cute and lovable, diffusing your nervousness without even realising that.

You kiss some more,a little more sloppily, now his hands tentatively sneak up the back of your shirt, resting warmly on your spine, fingertips brushing against the clasp of your bra, and the second you shiver from his touch he stops, making it a point to look at you in your seemingly drunken eyes: "you know you can stop me anytime right? no actually ...it's not that you can ...you have to", he speaks solemnly, seriousness downing on his face.

"I think we should have a safe word. Something that either of us can use at any point and that'll make us snap right out of it", he continues, looking intently at you, "oh? s-sure?", you agree, continuosly pleasantly surprised at just how caring and mature he is, "of course you can just say hey Chan stop right now but if it makes it easier I reckon we should come up with something immediate that can be used whenever no questions asked, like I don't know ...you say apples and we stop. No matter what, we stop".

The corners of your lips stuck into a genuine, bright smile, you nod enthusiastically, "apples! I like the sound of that!", you comment, reassurance seeping in inside your veins. Chan leans in to kiss you once more, absolutely loving the way your body is warm and so close to his his heart might just leap out of his chest and smack against yours.

He hums pensively, hands crawling up your bra straps, "actually ...perhaps not apples. Let's find something else, please ...", he says slowly, "why not apples? You don't like fruit?", you tease jokingly and he giggles in response, though he frowns too, in a joking matter as well: "I love fruit! But it's isn't going to work ... you've got apples there ...my brain might just short circuit", he whines in a pout, gesturing at the general direction of your chest.

The laugh bursting out of you is potent and stress relieving to no end, you physically double down on him, laughing his ass out as well, arms barely holding you from the vibration. It takes you both a little bit to fully calm down, the smitten smiles stay though, as if permanently etched onto your faces.

"Alright alright ...what about ...Scooby doo? Is it outlandish enough?", you offer along with an encouraging nod, immediately reflected by Chan who vigorously agrees, "Scooby doo! I love that. Yes let's go with that!" he declares, promptly peppering your face with kisses until you're a giggly mess again.

Truly the silliness of it all makes your heart feel so light, this is so like Chan, you think to yourself, to make you feel so at ease and comforted, to turn something serious and important like communication and make it fun and spontaneous and nice.

You only start to fully someber up once Chan starts kissing your neck a little more feverishly, you slowly realise he also cupping your bra, fondling very gently, and that's fine with you, you've been here before.

With a quick move you take off your shirt and straighten out your back, those thin, calloused fingers of his immediately skimming the notches of your spine and then brushing the flesh of your sides and lower back.

Choking a bit on air, you shift into Chan's lap some more, the friction there making it so he's just getting harder and harder in his pants, lips dragging over your jaw and your jugular and then down the exposed skin on your upper chest, a soft groan resounding in the room as he feels your half naked body against his, "should we-should we go upstairs in your room?", he offers beneath his breath, dark but shining orbs looking at your reddened face.

It feels a lot like one of those teenage movies you used to watch and fantasize about, him lifting you right up into his arms, picking you up like a baby and climbing up the stairs while still kissing you passionately. It's real. It really is real. Your heart now thrumming faster, you close your eyes for a second, fully immersing yourself in the moment.

Chan carefully lays you down on your bed and spreads out your legs just enough so he can position his one knee in between as he hovers over you, lips full and dark pink, eager to kiss you more and more.

And you let him, of course you do.

So lost in the kiss and the delicate scent of his cologne it takes you a second to realise he's fumbling with the straps of your bra again, "is this okay? can we take this off?".

Your face now a several different degrees of hot from the intimacy of this all, you sit up just barely, the garment easily sliding down your shoulders, with little to no help.

A grunt escapes his lips, eyes growing big and dark, Chan takes in your sight and then attacks your chest with fluttery kisses all over, his hands coming up to fully undo the clasp and finally remove the garment.

Oh he knows what he's doing. There's a veil of hunger in his eyes, along with a certain savviness, like an expertise of sorts as he buries his face in your chest, that warm soft mouth of his kissing every goosebump and curve and birthmark while he gently fondles and squishes your flesh.

You're electrified by his touch but also soothed by it at the same time, blood surging fast to your heart but somehow quietening it down. It occurs to you that you haven't been doing much on your part, you wonder if you're supposed to do more than just run your hands down his smooth, muscular back, if you're supposed to pull at his hair, considering you genuinely wish to. Both for his and your own satisfaction.

Scooting just a little closer to him so he has easier access to you, you trail your hands down to his crotch, the fabric of his pants stretched for dear life around his very obvious boner: "that's you... that's all you", Chan mumbles a little flustered, a nervous giggle following suit that has you chuckling in disbelief.

Carefully you move your hands around the bulge, looking up at him with uncertainty, "may I...?", you ask timidly and he cups your cheek with one hand, "of course, you can touch me as much as you want".

Your hands trembling just a tad bit, you reach out to undo the button of his pants, struggling not to let it slip in between your fingers. Your boyfriend towering over you, feeling exponentially soft, melty on the inside and hard for you in the outside at the same times.

He chuckles and grabs both your hands just so he can bring them up to his lips and kiss them, distracting you from your task, "I got you, I got you", he whispers, now unbottoning his own pants, sliding them down his legs and then kicking them off.

You start stroking him through his light blue boxers,enough to feel him warming up and twitching slightly in your palms, Chan sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, looking absolutely marvelous while doing that, breathing heavy, arousal written all over his face despite the calmness in his attitude.

"Humpf...ooh ..s-shit", Chan tilts his head back, his Adam apple prominent and exposed, you can't help but plant a kiss right there, earnig a delighted whimper in response.

A firm but not painful grip to your aching wrist, Chan slows down your motion after a little while, just when you feel dampness in your palms, his still clothed skin becoming boiling hot, "I oof ...I'm going to need you to stop here or I might just ...not last", he admits through a ragged breath.He's holding back, trying to restrain himself as long as he can, you can tell by the beads of sweat on his face and his chest, the veins in his neck thickening by the second.

Still he remains astoundingly present and focused. On you. Only you. Thin fingers trailing down your torso, cupping your breasts and your face and your tummy and your arms, eager to kiss you all over too, "oh GOD your skin is so soft, you are so soft", he rasps in a daze.

You want to laugh and cry and scream at just how good this feels, all the soft touches and praise and the heat of his body pressing down on you. When his fingers eventually find their path down the front of your crotch, despite your heart rising up in your throat, you nod enthusiastically before he even gets the chance to speak, for you're fairly sure he's about to ask for your permission.

Eyes literally sparkling, Chan pinches your chin between his fingers, "I need your explicit vocal consent to touch you down there", he says solemnly, "you have it", you reply just as seriously, undoing the button of your jeans and sliding them down past your hips, letting him do the rest.

Just at the sight of you in your lilac frilly underwear where a darker patch is expanding has his mouth water, you can hear him cussing under his breath incomprehensibly one minute and then rubbing his fingers against your pulsating nub the next.Yeah your scars and stretchmarks and hair and skin bumps on the inside of your thighs are on full show for him, and admittedly they make you feel a little self conscious but if Chan notices them, he doesn't seem to mind at all.

He starts with just two fingers at first, rubbing back and forth, teasing your still clothed entrance a few times before he switches to pressing down his whole palm on you. Your head sinking into the pillow beneath you, you shut your eyes and bite down on your bottom lip harshly, your body going tense in the best way, cheeks warming up, your breathing coming up short as Chan works fast but thoroughly.

You're so concentrated on the building feeling in your lower tummy you barely hiss when the halfway soaked material of your knickers slides down your legs.Full lips tracing the contour of your folds, rough finger pads tapping ad rubbing and tapping again until you're spasming, "hol-ly ssh-shit" , you breathe out, rutting your hips up and up towards Chan who smirks and grunts and keeps his pace steady so you don't lose momentum.

Your temples pulsating, the oxygen seemingly abandoning your lungs, you choke out a moan that has Chan go jelly in the knees, watching you climax by his hand is making him wanting you impossibly more.

"I'm going to grab a condom...", he whispers on your lips, kissing them sweetly, momentarily bringing you back down on earth where you can stick your hand in his slightly matted hair and pull him for one more kiss, or two: "can you kiss me just a little longer?", you plead, feeling your eyelid heavy on your eyes, blissfullness and peace trying to take over the remaining nerves bubbling up in your stomach.

Chan chuckles and carefully lays down on top of you, slotting himself right in between your thighs, his boxers riding down in the process,"of course sweet girl, you get all the kisses you need". He looks at you with adoring eyes, eager to kiss you just as much you are to kiss him. He lets you roam his body with your hands, caress his arms and his back as you get lost on his tongue, your fingers softly pulling at the ends of his hair.

When you're both finally out if breath you help him out of his boxers, silently gasping at the sight of him and just how ... sizable he is. You try to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come while he slips on a condom, your heart a few seconds away from exploding from how fast it's beating.

Chan hovers you once more, the flex in his arms muscles so prominent you want to clamp them down and squeeze so bad just to relieve some tension: "are we-are we sure you're gonna ...fit? like are the laws of physics a thing?" you blurt out so candidly and your boyfriend quite literally doubles over in loud giggles.

Oh my god you could not love him more. He's giggling and squeaking and he's oh so hard for you and he's blushing up to the tip of his ears so endearingly and he's looking at you so softly so lovingly your love for him just shoots through the roof.

"I promise it's going to fit, I'm not going to break you, y/n", he reassures you, bending down to kiss you slowly, "you're in control yeah? we can stop anytime, just say the word", he continues, gently lowering himself down until he's almost fully aligned in between your thighs, not before making sure you're nodding your approval, smiling weakly, "actually ..do you want to be on top? Would that make you feel more comfortable? you can easily se the pace while you're on top of me", he offers, placing a soft peck on your cheek.

He looks so beautiful from down here. You can feel his whole body touching yours, the warmth of it, the smoothness and roughness of it too. And you can look straight into his eyes and run your fingers through hi hair.

There something so reassuring and calming in being encaged underneath him, it's oddly making you feel calmer despite how nervous you are deep dow: "I'd rather stay right here if that's okay, I feel safe".

Smiling widely, Chan holds your face, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs, gentle strokes tracing the outline of your smile lines and your nose. This close up you can see the few little faint, light coloured freckles on his nose and his cheeks, the single individual sparse hair of his eyebrows, the tenderness in the lines of his full lips.

You embrace him, wanting nothing more than feel all of him, and you're so focused on that handsome face of his you register he's adjusting himself inside of you only a second later when the air is temporarily sucked out of your chest.

It doesn't hurt, contrary to what you thought your whole life so far, perhaps because of how tender and sleek you were already, but it just feels a bit uncomfortable , a bit new at first. But not painful at all.

He starts moving ever so slowly, slipping in and out of you as he holds your waist and then your hips and then your overall frame once he realises you're both adjusting to one another bodies.

You instinctively lace your arms around his neck, inadvertently pulling him closer to you just as he begins to move a little faster, a whimper leaving his lips, making your head spin, "oh my ... fuck you feel amazing ...", he purrs.

Something primal, instinctual is set off in you. Sure, it's still not the most comfortable you've ever been but the sheer adrenaline and intense affection you feel for him is spreading all over your body, and it is enough to overpower the discomfort.

To be fair you start to even like it, that slight edge. It's quickly turning into a blindingly pleasant friction.

Heart palpitating, you tighten your grip around him, your hips moving in synchro with him as he goes in and out of you, now starting to sweat profusely and getting red and splotchy all over his torso, looking ridiculously hot, the feverish kissess and hisses and soft grunts you exchange making it all the more arousing, you belong to this man, you think. And it feels great.

Chan slows down just a bit, eyes dark but bright with genuine awe at you, holding him like that, like you never want to let him go, seemingly enjoying yourself judging from the sounds you're making, the way that you're moving.

It's just the erratic breathing that's concerning, reason why he now breaks his fast pace considerably, not deflating into softness yet but definitely delaying his own pleasure: "are you alright love? you're breathing funny" he chokes out.

You hurriedly scramble to push yourself up and wrap around him like a koala, kissing his neck repeatedly, "I'm good, I'm good I love you I'm good, don't stop please don't stop", it almost comes out on a whine but your heart hurts in the best way for just how insanely sweet and attentive he is.

Chan looks immensely relieved, he chuckles lowly, biting down his bottom lip, "you're doing so well, taking me so well, baby. But are you sure you're good? you can always invoke Scooby Doo".

Tension cut with the umpteenth outburst of giggles at how silly this sounds, it takes you a minute to fully regain your composure and kiss him in reassurance once again, "I'm perfectly fine, no need to call him". Chan smashes his lips into yours, his hands climbing up your body to squeeze and stroke and trace invisible patterns that he then wets with kissess.

The bed rocking with the commotion you two are causing, you squeeze your now weak thighs around him again and again he thrusts into you a few more times until the veins in his neck start popping out and the beads of sweat on his forehead roll down his cheeks.

His face contrite with excersion, he grinds his teeth and breathes out loudly, "fuck -fuck I love you -AH -fuck", he twitches and writhes, and visibly holds off his release for as long as he can, going all in with tapping motions on your clit while still pushing in and out a little slower, your vision getting progressively more blurry from the double intense stimulation.

That until he can no more and just climaxes hard: oh he's loud.

Louder than he has ever been before, not even in a vulgar way, just in a very exhausted very pleased way.

But Chan's is a pleaser, and he likes to give more than he likes to take: though still panting and puffing air out, he makes sure you get your release too. All over him and your white linen sheets beneath your bum.

You slowly let go of him and spread your arms out on the mattress, tired out of your mind but in complete utter bliss too as you close your eyes and inhale and exhale rapidly.

Out of the corner of your eyes you see him roll off of you and throw away the condom, he grabs something from your bathroom and returns to you with a stupid grin on his face, "let's get you all cleaned up sweetheart", he says gently, proceeding to dab around your body with what you can only presume is a towel.

You smile timidly and let him do his thing, way too comfortable and meek and relaxed to move an inch to help him, you barely stroke the hair away from his forehead and observe how fast your chest is rising and falling, "I-ve -I've got wet wipes in the second drawer", you murmur, and Chan promptly retrieves them from the nightstand you just pointed at, doing his best to clean the both of your dampened, slightly sticky bodies.

Afterglow. You never knew the true meaning of the term until this very moment as you observe Chan's serene expression, he rests peacefully on the other side of the bed, his hands lazily tracing your spine up and down while you listen to his heartbeat, your blushed cheek pressing down on his chest.

He suddenly starts sniffing your head, humming contently underneath his breath,"how do you manage to smell like fresh roses right now, I don't understand", he whines softly , kissing your hair and then the tip of your nose, breaking the comfortable silence you had fallen in in the sweetest way possible.

Your lips inevitably stretching into a smile just for him, you turn your face and look up at him to peck his lips, "your cleanliness might have rubbed off on me too, who knows. You never smell bad either".

Chan giggles at your cute response and nudges you closer to him, "I have to confess I got a bit self conscious when I started to sweat badly. You were laying there underneath me, naked and fucking beautiful, and I was like yeah I'm Korean I don't really smell when I sweat but I was so nervous and afraid I was going to hurt you I thought my stress levels were going to mess with my own chemicals haha".

It sounds light hearted and not that serious at all cause he's laughing and playing it off but you know this man so well you instantly recognise it actually takes him a lot of courage to be this vulnerable and honest, your heart swelling up at just hearing him talk like that.

"I'm so sorry you were stressed. If it helps at all I didn't really notice to be honest. You seemed so confident and assured, I genuinely felt like you knew how to take care of me. And you didn't hurt me in the slightest, I feel like you were actually so gentle", you admit sincerely, brushing your hands over his pectorals, and he hums almost timidly in response, as per usual, way too humble to accept compliments.

"Did you hold back, at all?", you ask after a little while, the seed of suspicioun settling in your heart, not out of malice but out of the care you know Chan is unable not to extend to you, "I didn't. Not intentionally anyway. I tried to be gentle and not overwhelm you since it was your first time but other than that I wouldn't have done anything differently even if we were causally having sex on a random night. I'm glad you didn't feel the need to call Scooby-Doo ehehe".

You both giggle and bash in the profound intimacy that is embracing each other like this, naked and happy. "Like I said, you were so careful and caring I was quite alright the whole time. Sorry for the silly jokes though, I was trying to be funny to drown out the nervousness. And also you're actually bigger than I thought I swear I was unprepared".

Chan starts to laugh so loudly he shakes and vibrates and you think he's going to choke any minute now. So you laugh with him too, obviously, while still having to actively hold on to the sheets or you know you're going to roll off the bed.

"You are the silliest cutest girl, never apologise for being you, please I love you so much it hurts" he chuckles happily, kissing you over and over, joyfulness bursting out of him.

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madamechrissy · 4 months ago

Text

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. Some fingering and teasing and dirty talk this chap

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name.

Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right?

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2

You have no clue how you have survived these past couple of weeks, of watching Satoru… or Professor Dickhead… walk through the halls, like he owned them, hands in his pockets, dressed constantly like a million bucks. Of him lecturing your class, his eyes catching yours just so. Of his little comments, as he challenged you constantly in every class.

You mull over your day in class as you thumb through a philosophy book in the library.

"Let's consider another scenario.” He looks at you, and you sigh when he calls your name, he frequently gives you the hardest questions.

“Yes, Professor Gojo?” Professor Dickhead.

“Say you are a defense attorney representing a client accused of murder. The evidence against your client is overwhelming, and you even think that they may truly be guilty. However, your client confesses to you that they are innocent, and that the real killer is someone else who will strike again if they are convicted. What do you do?"

The question hangs in the air like a storm cloud, pressing down on you. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart racing in your chest. The class is silent, taking pity on you, as they usually did, since Gojo loved to throw advanced moral dilemmas your way.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I would have to do everything in my power to find the real killer, Professor Gojo. I would gather as much evidence as possible and investigate every lead, no matter how small. Even if it meant risking my client, I would not give up until justice was served."

There's a murmur of agreement from some of the students, but you can also sense the unease in the air. You can feel Professor Gojo's icy blue gaze burning into you, and you know that he's not just evaluating your answer, but he’s evaluating you , looking down your face, your lips, briefly at your chest, heating you up with every second he stands there.

"An admirable answer, I suppose." He says finally, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re bright fucking red on your cheeks and ears now. "But let's consider the consequences of that. If you were to go down this path, you might be seen as an obstructive defense attorney, who is so obsessed with the truth she hurts her client.”

You gulp, hating the way he leans on your desk, how he casually destroys your psyche. “With all due respect Professor Gojo, I disagree.”

He raises a brow, smirking, looking so handsome you wanna smack him. There had been nothing but shared looks for two weeks, you all had crossed no lines, but every move of his makes you ache, so you despise him more. “Oh? You disagree, do you? Explain, please.”

“What sort of attorney would I be if I don’t seek the truth?”

“A shit one for defense. You’re thinking about prosecution.” His voice is mocking, as he leans forward on your desk now. “Even so, what if despite your best efforts, you were unable to find the real killer? Your client's fate rests solely on your shoulders."

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. The weight of his words is crushing, and you can't help but wonder if you've made the right choice, being here, you begin to feel those hits of doubt. Professor Gojo's gaze pierces you like a knife, making you feel exposed.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself. "My responsibility as their lawyer is to provide them with the best possible advice and guidance of course, while also upholding my own personal values. I will not put those aside."

The classroom is silent as your words hang in the air. You can feel the tension building, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see how this will play out. You glance over at Professor Gojo, and his expression is unreadable, as his lips then turn up, into a little smirk, shocking you.

“You stand by your convictions, even if it fucks you over? Fucks over your entire career?” His voice raises a bit, that silken timbre hitting hard. You nod, and the bell thankfully rings. “We’ll touch more on that next week.”

The class files out, and so many people go up to him, to his desk, to ask questions or to talk, you slip out quickly, heart fucking racing. He seemed to delight in putting you on the spot, in pushing his experience and authority on you. It was overwhelming. But in a weird way, it gives you some fucking insane thrill, one you question…

***

You peek at your phone, Maki is inviting you to a party tonight. Though at the same school, you all don’t see each other much, in different dorms and different classes. You answer with an ambiguous maybe, sighing when you think of the last time you went out… when that infuriating man made you cum so fucking hard you throb thinking of it.

Fucking Gojo.

You thumb through the book, as a pretty girl comes in, wearing a gorgeous red business suit. She smiles at you, her hair is a dark brown with bangs that gently frame her face, she has a little scar on her cheek that seems to only make her more captivating. She walks to you, smiling.

“Heard Professor Gojo is giving you a hard time, huh?” You flush at that, looking down a bit. “I’m Professor Geto’s teaching assistant. Utahime.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Utahime. I've seen you around.” You stand and shake her hand, which has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Of course. I've been getting started at this new position. But Gojo? He’s a shithead.” You snort at that, and she grins. “He’s a damn good lawyer, and teacher, but he pushes hard. He pushed me very hard, I think I contemplated killing him and being my own attorney.”

You burst out laughing then, you instantly like her. “He’s a challenging professor, which I enjoy, but he certainly is-”

“Fucking gorgeous? I know ladies, you don’t have to go on about it.” Gojo walks in, his Gucci shades on, thankfully covering those ridiculous eyes of his, and his hair is casually falling over his forehead. Utahime scowls at him.

“You fucking wish, Gojo.” He sticks his tongue out at her, she flips him off, and you can’t stop your giggle.

“Something funny, Miss Brat?” He demands, staring at you, and Utahime shoves at him now. He runs around the empty library as she smacks at him.

“Gojo, do not even!”

“What Hime, jealous? Ouch!” She thwacks him good then, and you’re enamored how wild these ‘professionals’ are. In a way it’s kinda fucking awesome.

“Her name isn’t Miss Brat . Get your shit together, god.”

“You’re still sad I didn’t fuck you that night, hmm? After all these years! Ow, shit that hurts! That’ll leave a fucking mark!”

“I never wanted to fuck you, dickhead. Ugh. Anyway, let me know if you need anything…” She says your name, turning from a vicious little thing to a sweetheart, you smile at her, and Gojo scowls.

“I will, I really appreciate that! I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Bye hunny.” She waves, scowling at Gojo as she shoves past him, and he huffs.

“Bye Hime!” She flips him off again, storming out, and you’re in a fit of giggles now, until his gaze catches you, pushing down those round shades just so. “Well, Miss Brat, whatchya reading hmm?”

He snatches the book from your hands, and you glare up at him, standing up and trying to grab it, but fucker was way too tall, you end up hopping up as he grins like some psycho, holding it out of your reach. You huff and he peers up at it, pursing those pretty glossy lips of his.

“Hmm… didn’t take you for an Aristotle girl.” He muses, and you sigh, sitting back down, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, and he pulls a chair, spinning it and straddling it, resting his arms on the back casually. You gulp, thinking how fucking hot he looks, shoving that down hard.

“Figured you’d like Plato. Aristotle is a bit too logical for someone as feisty as you.” He says, flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning over it.

“I can be logical…” He smirks at that. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here anyway?” You ask, and he smirks, placing the book down in front of you, leaning across with those stupid long arms. All of him was stupid long…

Fuck.

“Blushing? From me just near you?” He taunts, leaning closer, you take a shaky breath, inhaling that likely expensive cologne he wore that made him even more delectable to you.

Fuck Fuck.

“No, it's just warm in here.” He laughs at your lie, and you pick the book back up, flipping to the page you were on and trying to ignore him.

“Hmm, I have an idea, Miss Brat.”

“That’s not my name, Professor Dickhead. What’s the idea?” Your eyes narrow as he slides off his shades, those glittering eyes boring into your face.

“Write a ten page essay on this book.” He taps the philosophy book you’re reading, you frown at that.

“I have enough work to do. Why extra, on philosophy?”

“Because you’ll get a reward for it. Something no one gets as a first semester, let alone a first year. What ya think?” You bite your lip a bit, taking a shaky little breath. “You’re tempted, hmm?”

“What reward?” Your eyes narrow, and he throws back his head with laughter, making you flush more.

“Not anything like that, you’re such a pervy little brat.” You scowl, standing then and gathering your books. He grips your wrist, your throat goes dry at the touch, looking down at him and his fucking grin. “Stop, you haven’t even heard me out.”

You exhale, yanking your arm back, hating what every little brush of his skin did to your body. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll take you on a field trip.” He says with a grin, you roll your eyes, snorting, before laughing hard. He glares, yanking your wrist again. “Excuse me, Miss Brat, I am your professor. You’re so disrespectful.”

“Sorry. A field trip? To where, the Zoo, Sir?” You keep giggling, and he stands, shutting them up when he’s just an inch from you with that hard body. You exhale, biting your lip again, and he gently puts his thumb to your lip, easing it from out of your teeth, shooting desire hard through your entire body.

“I wish corporal punishment was still a thing. I’d whip the fuck out of you.” He glares, and you don’t laugh then, because the thought of Gojo bending you over his desk smacking you? Yeah that did insane things…

“Sorry, Mr. Gojo.” You manage, sighing and looking up at him, clutching your books nervously to your chest. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll bring you to the case I’m working on, it’s a big one-”

“The fucking case where where the politician’s son is accused of killing that prostitute?” You interrupt, your eyes wide, he smirks.

“You would know what case I'm in. Stalker .”

You roll your eyes. “Not at all… but of course I know about it. It’s all over the news and everything. I heavily follow cases. How the fuck can I get on that? Like would the school let me?”

“Easy, write the essay. Impress me, and I’ll get the approval for it. You’re a star student already, it should be easy for you to come along. Maybe it’ll help you decide on a major, seeing the real world of law, hmm?” He suggests, and you nod eagerly. “Knew you’d be in for it. One more condition.”

“What, anything!” He smirks at your enthusiasm, and you brush your hair back nervously.

“I need it done by tomorrow. And you’ll read it out to me.” You frown at that, brows knitting, as you think of the work you’re swamped with. “If you can read it proficiently, under pressure, I’ll take you.”

“Under pressure?” You sigh when he smirks again. “Fuck… I mean… yeah, I’ll do it. I can.”

“Exactly what I thought.” He brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, and you tense, eyes locking on his lips. “You’re wearing makeup.”

“Um… yeah, I do a lot.”

“Not face makeup. Usually just your eyes.” You blink at that, wishing you could make your heart stop racing inside your chest.

“Ah… I mean, maybe that’s true. I looked a little pale so I threw on some bronzer.”

“Hmm. You don’t need it.” He backs away now, hands in his pockets, and you can just barely breathe now. How did he notice things like that? “All right, I’ll see you in my office at five pm sharp with it.”

You fidget, peeking at your watch. You had less than twenty hours and that was with no sleep. “I will be there with it.”

“All right Miss Brat, hop to it.” He winks at you as he walks out, so casually, and you sink back down into the chair, fucking breathless. The scariest shit? You were just as excited to spend time with Satoru as you were to see this court case, what the fuck did that say about you?

You pull out your laptop, getting to work, the library isn’t busy at this time, so you can focus on the essay without distraction. As you write, you can’t help but think of Satoru, his touch, his smell, his voice. You shake your head, focusing on the words in front of you, you could do this, you could totally knock out a ten page essay for a chance at this.

***

The next day you’re fucking drained, going through each lecture exhausted, to the point Professor Geto stopped you after class, concerned look on his handsome face, and Utahime also comes to you. She’s frowning, and you hold in your yawn, struggling to smile.

“I’m fine you all, just had an extra credit thing for Mr. Gojo.” Professor Geto smirks then, rolling his eyes, and Utahime huffs.

“Dear god, what extra credit!” Utahime whispers, and you laugh a bit at her expression, shaking your head.

“Not anything crazy. A ten page essay on this book about Aristotle he found me reading.” You hold it up, and Professor grabs it, with his elegant hands, humming a bit to himself as he studies your face then.

“Huh, Aristotle? Would take you for a Plato girl.” You giggle then, so tired you’ve lost it, yawning wide.

“Satoru…. I mean shit.” You freeze, and they both look at you curiously, making you flush red. “Professor Gojo said that too.”

“Mmm, we are best friends, makes sense.” He hands it back to you with a smile, Professor Geto was devastatingly handsome with his angled features and long hair. Another model to fuck with all of you students.

He held himself with a quiet allure, confident but not overtly insane like Satoru… Professor Gojo… fuck. You needed to be more careful.

“He shouldn’t be giving her extra work.” Utahime says to Geto, and he sighs, looking at you with chocolate eyes.

“Well, what’s the reward?” You grin at that.

“Going to his court case tomorrow.”

“Well your eyes lit right up.” Geto muses, and even Utahime nods.

“I’d have done it too.” She comes to you and rubs your shoulder softly. “You’re done with it already?”

“Mmhmm. I have to read it to him though, ugh.”

Geto is just grinning now, and Utahime rolls her eyes. “Satoru is such a little shit, I swear. Just go in with confidence, you’ll do well.” He also touches your shoulder gently with a little smile.

You smile at them both. “Thank you all. Promise I’ll get to sleep tonight! Shit, what time is it?”

“Four fifty.”

“I gotta go! Bye!” You run out of the classroom then, exhaling as you head to Gojo’s office.

You knock on the door when you get there, and he calls out for you to enter. The office is surprisingly neat when you walk in it, a stark contrast to the chaos he brings into your life you think, but his classroom was also impeccable, so it makes sense. He’s sitting at his desk, looking up at you with those piercing eyes, leaning his chin on his hands with a smirk, looking fucking irresistable as ever.

“You’re just on time. Good.” You walk over and place the essay down. “Ah-ah. You're reading it to me, remember?”

You bite your lip, exhaling nervously, taking the paper back, then you squeak in surprise as he picks you up, sitting you on his big black desk. You look at him with wide eyes, and he’s gone to lock his door, a loud click resonating, your thoughts run fucking crazy when he’s behind you, taking your hair down out of its bun, bobby pins scattering along the desk.

“What the fuck?” You look up at him incredulously, but he just has a huge grin, his fangs glistening in the soft light of his office.

“Remember I said you’d read it under pressure?” You scowl, as he walks slowly around the desk until he’s in front of you, looming so tall, bending over until his lips are just a breath away.

You clear your throat, tilting your head back to look at him. “What about it has to do with my hair down?”

His grin grows, and he gently places a thumb and forefinger under your chin. “Nothing, I just like your hair down.”

“You’re such a shithead.” He chuckles at that, then eyes you intently.

“What is pressuring is how you feel for me.” Your mouth drops open, and you’re sputtering for a moment, opening and closing it. “You can’t act like it’s not true, just a touch…” He barely brushes a bare thigh, you hold in your moan. “Makes you tremble. And just a…” He leans in so close, breath hot against your lips. “Yeah, it makes you bright fucking red.”

“Does not.” You glare, and he just shakes his head with that annoying smirk plastered on his face, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your body now.

“Your thighs shift when you are watching me in class.” You bite back another moan, struggling to keep still, but you fail, your thighs do fucking move together. “Just like that. Think I didn't notice?” His blue eyes hit yours, and your resolve wavers.

“So my thighs shift… So what?” He leans even closer, and his thumbs brush the sensitive part of your inner thighs, making you fucking wet immediately, and you hate him for it.

“You wriggle your hips when you watch me too. Like this.” He takes them in his hands, pressing you hard on the desk, and you can’t stop the whine that comes from the back of your throat. “Need that friction hmm?”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” You whisper, feeling tears prick your eyes then, your breaths coming in little pants. “Why do this? Why push me so goddamn hard, call me out all the fucking time, with some advanced essay request? Do you really fucking dislike me so much-”

“Dislike?” He cuts you off with a glare, and you blink rapidly, swiping the little tears that fell. “You’re not as smart as I thought.”

“And you call me unintelligent! What the fuck even is this?” You go to get down and he holds you there, hands on your waist, so big they nearly cover it, squeezing and making you moan again. “Fuck, you…”

“I push you because I see potential.” He cuts you off then, and you meet his gaze, which has grown serious. “I’m doing this because…” He trails off, easing his grip and sliding his hands down your body. “Because I’m masochistic.”

You sniffle a bit, shaking your head. “You’re pushing me so hard.”

“I know. And I won’t stop.” He tilts your chin again, making you gaze at that pretty fucking face. “Now, the point is, your desire for me makes you unfocused. It’s a challenge. So we use it, and you push through it, can you do it?”

You tremble, hands hot and sweaty. You suck in a breath, shutting your eyes for a moment and focusing. You wanted to deny it, to not admit what was blatantly obvious to this conceited man. But… “Yes. I can do it.”

“Good girl.” His hands brush your hair back as he murmurs those words, in that deep timbre, you…

Fuck.

“Don’t say that.” You hate what it does to you, his words, that shit eating grin when your watery eyes open.

“Now, begin, Miss Brat. Let’s see how you handle this.” His breath is against your neck again, tickling delicate skin, making you shiver. “If you do well, you’re in tomorrow. I won’t push anything too far either, just enough to throw you off. Okay?”

You nod, realizing the challenge he was throwing, and you pick up your papers, reading out loud in the most confident voice you can muster. “Aristotle's idea of natural law holds that certain principles are inherent in human nature. That has helped to shape the development of natural law theory. Mmnh…” Saroru’s big hands brush up your thighs, making you wetter between them, you struggle to focus.

“Continue on, Miss Brat, you’ve just begun.” You clench your teeth as his fingers brush little circles, hypnotizing you, taking over all of your damn senses.

“Aristotle's emphasis on human reason and the balance between individual rights and social order has influenced the development of constitutionalism, far more than his counterparts or teachers. Plato and Socrates for example… unh. Fuck!” He laughs as he kisses your thigh, bent down between you, and your eyes go wide. Just a brush of his lips, you drop the paper.

He bends down to grab it, his breath so close to where you ache for him you feel tears prick your eyes. He smirks as he hands it back to you, leaning in close now. “So that’s what really gets you, does it remind you of that night?” He purrs the fucking words, and you clench your jaw so hard it hurts. “Does it?”

“Yes, fuck. Ugh.” You look away, and you hate it when he’s leaned against you again, as he’s read you like a book.

“Continue on, you can do this.” He orders, so casually, like he wasn't destroying your mind.

You take a breath, struggling to keep it together, when he decides to run his fingers through your hair now, reading more of the essay. You struggle not to just arch your head and enjoy it, but no, you’ve gotta fucking focus. “Aristotle's concept of justice as a balance between extremes has influenced legal theories, especially when it comes to justice as we know it… Fuck… please…”

“Shh.” His breath is hot on your ear, he nips the earlobe just so with his sharp teeth, flicking his tongue on it. You clench your thighs tight, damn near aching with how bad you want him. “Keep going, baby girl. Remember, you’re under pressure.”

You struggle to focus as the words jumble further on your paper. “Ethics is the most emphasis surely, as his focus on human character has led to a greater focus on ethical considerations in decision-making. It brings to light all of the things that make human beings tick and…”

You inhale sharply when he's behind you, brushing your hair to the side with one hand, then sliding off your blazer. “Aww, you’re a whole Aristotle stan, aren’t you baby girl? I’m so intrigued.”

“Professor Gojo…” You trail off, he has his big hands on your shoulders, burning you through the blouse with his touch.

“You're doing really well.” He praises you, and you are surprised as fuck. “Keep going, pretty. Almost done.”

“Fuck…” You shake yourself out of it. “As for Aristotle's methodology, which emphasized empirical observation and scientific inquiry, it has influenced the development of evidence based decision making in law. It makes… mmm…”

Satoru is in front of you, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek. “No bronzer today hmm?” You flush, shaking your head. “Good, you have a natural blush when around me. Continue.” His face is buried in your hair, then soft lips kiss your temple. You're trembling so bad, trying to hold it together.

“Aristotle's concept of stability and continuity has influenced the development of legal systems as we know it. Without Aristotle's advanced ideas, we may have been much further behind. His ideas… carry…” You're almost done when he brushes his hands down the side of your breasts, blue eyes locked on yours.

“You're so close, pretty. Finish. ” He watches your back arch when he brushes his thumbs over the taut nipples, over your lacy bra and the blouse, you nearly lose it. But you finish. You fucking do it.

“To…to conclude, Aristotle's ideas have had a profound impact on various aspects of legal thought and practice, and they are still shaping the way we think about law today.”

“Good," He says, his voice gruff. "It's good."

You look up at him, your heart racing, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the very room seems to hold its breath, and you can feel the electricity flickering between you. The tension is so palpable you could reach out and touch it, he is unusually quiet and serious, when you lean in slightly, your body betrays you, and he mirrors the movement, his face just inches from yours.

“Was it okay, Satoru? Really?” You whisper, he cups your face, nodding, and you're even closer, your hand is pulling on his tie, you can taste his minty breath, tempting you further.

“It was really good. I wouldn’t say if not. Especially for one day.” His fingers play along the neckline of your blouse, brushing your collarbone, he leaves goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Thank you… I…”

But before anything happens, there is a knock on the door. Thank god, what even could happen between you two that would be anything other than an entire disaster?

“Busy.” Gojo mutters, and they seem to leave. He exhales, shutting his eyes for a moment and resting his forehead on yours, holding your face gently, before pulling back and staring down at you.

“What is it?” You murmur, and he shakes his head, sighing.

“You look so hot on my damn desk. This image is gonna be burned in my fucking brain.” He runs his hand through his hair, sighing.

“I…” You trail off, letting go of his tie and looking down. “Sorry, I got carried away a bit I think.”

“You?” He scoffs at that, and leans in again, barring you with his arms against the desk, gaze devouring you. “You get to go. You did a really good job.”

“Oh my god! Really?” He nods, and you grin, throwing your arms around his neck eagerly and hugging him. He tenses, and you ease away, but he pulls you back against him, standing up and holding you.

You’re dangling there in his arms as you hug him tightly, and you bury your face in his neck for a moment, feeling how good that hard body is on yours, his thrumming heart against your aching breasts. How good he smells, you want to inhale his scent forever. How much this reminds you of that night, of the guy you instantly fucking liked and wanted.

You…

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Got carried away again.” You murmur, and he eases you down, hands not leaving your little waist, he looks down at you, so intense, you can see your desire mirrored in him. In his parted lips. In his hooded eyes. “I'm tired and not thinking right.”

“Don’t apologize.” He says, voice husky.

“I’m really excited.” You ease your arms down, struggling to come down to Earth, to reality, which is damn near impossible, as you can hear your panting breaths and loud heartbeat in his quiet office.

“I’m glad. It’ll be in the morning, so just make sure to prep.” You nod eagerly, then turn to grab your things off his desk, and you’re against him again. He hisses, gripping you tight around your hips, thumbs pushing into your lower back.

You look back over your shoulder. “Satoru?”

“Why is your ass so goddamn nice? Especially in this fucking skirt.” He demands through clenched teeth, and you feel his hands tighten further, bruising grip, as he presses you against the desk.

“Fuck…” You manage to cry out, covering your mouth, when you feel his length hot and hard against the small of your back.

“Yeah, fuck.” He mutters, his hands grab your hair tight then, still loose and flowing, and you arch your head back, fucking uncaring at this point. He could fuck you then and there and you’d literally say thank you.

Why did he make you like this?

“Satoru…” It’s a little whine, his name.

“Why does my name sound so good on those fucking lips?” He’s muttering the words through gritted teeth, and pulls your head until you face him. “Do you know how badly I wanna bend you over this desk and feel that tight cunt around me?”

You manage a shake of your head, blinking rapidly, his hands slide your skirt up, and you grind your ass back for more, moaning. You know you all can’t do it, you fucking know, but the thoughts… the touches… when he pulls the fabric of your skirt as he pulls your hair, and you breathe into each other's lips.

“We… shouldn’t… right?” You manage, his lips ghosting above yours, before easing his grip. He exhales, kissing your shoulder, sliding your skirt down, leaning over you to grab your blazer.

“I… ahem…” He puts on a smirk suddenly. “I know I get you so horny and wet, but control yourself, Miss Brat.”

‘You fucking ass!” You turn around and shove him hard, he snatches you up, wrapping the blazer around your shoulders, laughing.

“Am I wrong? Bet she’s soaked.” He slides his hand back up, and it takes everything in you to smack his hand.

“Fuck off, Professor Dickhead.” You huff, pushing past him.

“Wait…” You turn to him, glaring, and he’s got his hand running through that silvery white hair again, messing it up, making this literal perfect man look just a bit human.

“What?”

“Let me take you to your dorm. It’s gonna rain.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “No?”

“It’s not gonna rain. It was nice out…” Thunder claps in the background, making you jump a bit, and he just smirks. You wanna smack him. “I’ll go out in it.”

Now he glares at you. “You wanna be soaked? More than you already are.” He looks down at your lap again, you turn away. “Jesus, you're so stubborn. Will you please let me?”

“Whatever, why?” He walks past you, unlocking the door.

“You gotta be presentable tomorrow, not all sick because you got drenched. Come on, it's not like it’ll be long.” He grabs an umbrella, a long clear one, and snatches up his briefcase as well.

You quietly follow him out of the office, and through the school, until you’re at the door and see how badly it is raining, pouring down and the wind is going insane, making rain swirl around. Gojo opens the door for you, popping the giant umbrella out and putting it on top of you both.

It’s a downpour, soaking everything in seconds, except for the two of you under the clear shelter of the umbrella. You can feel the heat of his body through the fabric as he holds you close, and even with the chill of the rain, it’s like you’re on fire. Every step you take is a battle against the urge to lean into him, to let him consume you, to just say fuck it and epic kiss in the rain.

You can’t.

You don’t.

You keep walking, trying to keep your mind on anything but how badly you want to feel his hands all over you again, a mere tease, making you shiver as you all near his car, a fancy silver sports car likely worth more than anything you’ve ever seen. He opens the door, holding the umbrella still, and you climb in quickly, shivering as he comes to the other side.

Gojo revs up the engine, and the car lights up, you’re trembling as you watch his big hand wrap around the gear shift, putting the car into drive, but he looks at you first, catching your hungry fucking gaze and smirking.

“Seatbelt, Miss Brat.” You giggle a bit, breathless, sliding it in with trembling hands.

“Sorry.” You manage, and then the car zips through the soaking wet streets. You find yourself enamored by him, by every clench of his jaw, by the way his hand grips the steering wheel.

“Need to take a picture?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, sighing, hugging the blazer around you a bit.

“Should have asked you that with me on your desk.” He smirks at that, his blue eyes catch yours just so, the windshield working overtime as you all sit at the stop sign, waiting.

“I’ve got a whole fucking mental picture I’ll use later.” You feel overheated, your chest tight with his words, fidgeting with your hands, exhaling. The rain is spattering on the roof, and it’s just you and him, together, side by side. No school, no bar, nothing but you and… “You okay? You’re quiet.”

“Yeah, just cold.” You lie straight up, shivering more. But you know it’s not the cold. It’s him. It’s the way he makes you feel, full of fucking desire that throbs through you.

“Want the heat on?” He asks softly, you shake your head, smiling over at him, as the car speeds through the wet streets, the rain beating a rhythmic pattern on the windshield, the wipers swiping back and forth in a hypnotizing dance. All of it was making your resolve lower.

“No, it's a quick ride, don’t worry.” You murmur, tensing when one of his hands goes to your thighs then, hot and burning on your chilled skin, goosebumps rising where he touches. You can feel your heart racing, your breathing getting heavier.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He says, his voice a rough whisper in your ear, and you blush harder than you thought possible as you look at him, realizing you all were at a stop now.

“Don’t say things like that, please… you don’t understand what they do to me.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, avoiding that gaze.

“Baby girl… I know what it does to you.” His hand climbs higher, and you can’t breathe, it’s like the car is suffocating you now.

“Then don’t.” You manage to bite out, and Satoru turns back to the road, continuing to drive in the rain, and the car ride is tense, the scent of his cologne fills the small space intermingling with your own scent.

As you pull up to your dorm, you finally dare to glance at him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are dark and intense, watching you, his gaze going down to where his hand is on your thigh. You shift in your seat, internally cursing, slick desire dripping down through your inner thighs even, so close to where his hand was it would only take the smallest inch further to reveal it.

"Listen," he says, his voice low and serious. "This isn't going to be a cakewalk. You're coming to a serious case tomorrow. You need to be on your toes."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I understand. I'll be ready."

“And you won’t be interfering.” He slides his hand fucking higher, and your heart is racing now. “You don’t smack my hand away. Why?”

“You even have to ask?” You bit out, looking at him now, your lips parting, his eyes dart to them, hunger in their blue depths.

“You should smack it away.” He says, husky, and you go to take his hand off you, but you falter, instead you grip it, sliding it up that inch, to where his thumb feels it, feels the sticky wetness on you. He exhales, gripping you tightly, sliding his hand up until it comes in contact with your dripping cunt.

“Fuck…” You curse, when his thumb brushes you over your panties, and he exhales, moaning, leaning over you, and you all sit there for a moment, the rain thundering around you, your heart beating so loud it’s all you can hear.

“Saoaking fucking wet.” He murmurs, swirling his finger again and pressing up, and you fucking lose it, moaning, arching your hips up, gripping onto his business jacket, your lips right next to him.

“We shouldn’t…” You whisper, and then cry out when his long fingers stroke you up and down. “I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t be…”

“Why don’t you let me get you off real quick?” Satoru murmurs, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your panties now, moaning when he fully feels you, and you’re already gushing from just that.

“Fuck… Satoru… “ You hiss at his touch. “I can’t get it out of my fucking head. And I hate you for that.” You mumble, he tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing as he slides a finger up in you, and you throb around it, cries loud in the little car, louder than the pouring rain.

“You hate me, hmm?” He whispers, and you nod, tears pricking your eyes when he crooks his finger now, breath against your lips, you grind shamelessly in the chair, tummy clenching when he finds that spot.

“Yes. Fuck you for knowing my body somehow. And… fuck… mmmn…” Your eyes flutter shut when he crooks up again, hitting the little spot again, you see stars and black dots everywhere, cursing.

“Well guess what?” He leans even further, even closer, brows drawing low. “Fuck you for this perfect little pussy. Fuck you for being so wet.” You’re whining, pathetic now, tears pricking your eyes, as he slides his finger out, leaving you gasping.

“Fuck you completely.” You shove at him, and he scowls, then brings his finger to his mouth, sucking you off him, moaning, shutting his eyes, so fucking sexy. “Fuck you for looking like that!”

“Fuck you for tasting so fucking good.” He growls, and you’re both panting, your wetness is on his full lips. “I thought it was just alcohol, but nope. You taste as good as I remember. Now I think of eating you out while you’re at your fucking seat in class.”

“I think about sucking your dick under the fucking desk. So.” He blinks at that, and you turn insanely red, looking away. “And fuck you for that too.”

“Fuck you for always eye fucking me in class.” He growls the words, yanking your hair back, dominating every bit of your body and mind.

“Fuck you for… just fuck you, Satoru.” You’re crying now, and he’s watching you, smirking at you.

“ Are you crying ?” Your fingers itch to smack him, you shake your head, and you all sit there for a second, the rain getting harder, the windows fogging up with the heat from you two in the car, and you want to fucking kiss him so badly... You want to grab his hair and pull him into you, so he doesn’t stop, so he never stops.

But you don’t.

Because you’re both fucking insane, and you’re in a car, outside your fucking dorm. So instead you sit there, panting, trembling, staring at him, and he at you, as his grip loosens just slightly, as you feel yourself getting so wet your panties are ruined just like the damn night you met him.

“Not crying.” You say, firmly, and he smirks down you, so fucking charming and gorgeous you wanna smack him.

“You don’t wanna get off, baby girl?” He whispers, sliding his hand back down your waist, making you make some pathetic wine he seemed to enjoy.

“Of course I do, but where does it lead? Me fucking riding you in the car?” He grins big then. “Satoru…”

“You can’t just get off? You gotta fuck me hmm?”

“I need to go.” You unsnap your seatbelt, shaking hands fumbling, he slides his hands off you, unbuckling it for you.

“Poor baby can’t function, huh?” You glare again at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Gonna be all horny in the court room, how can you go?”

“I’ll use my rose toy.” At that his eyebrows shoot up, and you cover your mouth, falling back in your seat. “Fucking ignore that.”

“I am going to need a video of that.” You shove him, and he’s laughing at you now, with that pretty grin of his. It sucks.

This sucks.

“You wish, Professor Dickhead.” You go to open the door, peering at how bad it’s still down pouring.

He’s out of the car in a moment, then he’s opening yours, holding the umbrella up high so that you two are back under it together, he’s looking down at you, that white hair just a little wet. You errantly brush it back, then put your hand down, flushing, realizing where you were, who you both were. He takes the hand then, leading you to the doorway, which had an overhang.

“I’ll be here at 8 AM sharp, Miss Brat.” He murmurs, still too close, body still up against yours. You nod, shy suddenly, next to the man that had just tasted you, your fucking Professor. “Want my number?”

“What? No.” He laughs at you, white teeth showing, and it lights up his stupidly pretty face.

“Do you know how many women would die for my number?” You shrug, and he continues to laugh. “You’re such a little brat.”

“Am not. I just don’t want it.” You look down, at his exposed neck, where the knot of his tie had come loose, and your shaky hands go to slide the knot back up, you hear his hitch of his breath, see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“If you’re going to this case we need to keep in contact. I won’t be sending you dick pics, you’re not that lucky.” He winks and you chuckle against your own will, shaking your head and smoothing your hand down his tie.

“Mmm, true. You won’t get any videos either, Professor Dickhead.” He pouts at that, taking his phone out of his pocket then.

“My heart’s broken. But don’t worry.” He leans close, whispering in your ear, tickling it like crazy, making you throb with need. “I remember exactly how that pretty pussy looks.”

“Fuck off.” You whisper, pathetically, you don’t move, and you don’t mean it, though. Pathetic for this idiot professor who was ruining you with casual, silly little fucking movements. “Hate you.”

“I hate you . Hate how good you smell. Taste. Annoying brat.” You pull back to glare up at him, meeting his scowl. “Take my number, brat, and count yourself lucky to have it.”

“Conceited dick.” You take out your phone, and scan his little code, he pops right up in your phone. You giggle maniacally when you change his name in there, and he scowls at you.

“What’s so funny, brat?” You show him his name - Professor Dickhead- and he rolls his eyes, glaring at his phone, then smirking maniacally back, when he snaps a pic of you so quick it throws you off.

“What? Satoru!” You yank and hop up and he finally lets you see the phone, and it’s literally a pic of your cleavage in a top that’s ever so sheer and wet, with the name ‘Miss Brat’. “Dick!”

“Bitch.” You huff, turning away, and he snatches you by your wrist. “Don’t you want a picture of me?”

“Nope, sure don’t. I see you enough and it annoys me.” His laugh is hot against your neck.

“You’re a good liar, that will make you a great lawyer.” You turn to glare up at him, his touch eases, he’s just barely brushing his fingers down your hand now. You ache to hold his hand in your own, to entwine your fingers in his.

“Really, thank you, I am excited for tomorrow.” You whisper, and he sighs, hands releasing you now. You are just standing in front of him in the rain, under the cocoon the umbrella keeps you all in, hearing his breaths behind you.

“You’re welcome, little brat. Maybe if this works out and you bust your nice little fucking ass…” You yelp when he pinches you, whirling back around. “Then you’ll be in line to earn that internship. You’ve got a few months still, but…”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. He shrugs, casually.

“If you can keep up with how hard I’m going to push you.” The words take on something else, your mind is fucking wrecked you realize.

“I can take it.” He smiles at that, touching your chin gently.

“All right, go on in, I’ll see you in the morning.”

You dash inside, and your heart is fucking pounding, when you’re up in your room you hop out of all your clothes, wincing when you slide off the underwear that’s just sticking to your goddamn thighs now. You start the shower, cursing internally as you peek at your phone, at his goddamn number.

You’d been ready to fuck this guy on his desk, on his car…

And you had shit for experience.

You wouldn’t say it, but it made it all even worse, you were so far out of your wheelhouse as it was. You struggle not to touch yourself in the damn shower, to not push this all way further than it needed to be, but you find your clit and lean back against the tile wall.

Images of him fill your head, the way he looked at you, the way his eyes had gone dark blue when he touched you. The way his voice had gotten all low and gruff when he said he fucking hated you. You start moaning out loud, as you slip your fingers in, stroking fast, but it’s nothing like just one of his ridiculously long fingers, you can’t hit that damn spot.

You go back to rubbing your clit because at this point it’s puffy and so sensitive it happens fast. You come hard, gripping the little shower bar and leaning, your knees wobbling, feeling like a damn mess, and it’s all because of him. When you’re done you slump against the wall, panting, so confused what this man made you into.

He’d make fun of you if he knew.

You step out, sighing, drying up and then getting ready for the next day, planning your outfit, planning what to bring with you. This was an insanely serious case, one of the biggest, all over the television, and you had watched Satoru on them, he was fucking the best, not that you’d stroke his ego and tell him.

Your phone lights up when you’re settled down under the blankets, and you see his number and name pop up.

Professor Dickhead: Good night, Miss Brat.

How did something so simple make you nearly tear up again? You exhale, hand shaking as you swipe it up and open the messages. You nervously bite your lower lip, lips that ached for a goddamn kiss, one you had almost three months ago now. You couldn’t get the taste off your mind. You hate this.

You: Good Night… Satoru.

Not professor Dickhead, for some reason, it didn’t fit at the moment.

Well…

Satoru Gojo hearts the message you sent, and you hate the stupid smile on your face that it brings, the smile that lingers as you fall asleep, and you dream of him, anticipating the next day, such a huge day for you and your career, but also, spending time with him.

Fucking Professor Gojo.

Chapter 3

Ch 2 Ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/145101856#workskin

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #smut #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jujutsu satoru #jjk satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo

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floralpascal · 1 year ago

Text

Surprise

Summary: Lingerie drives John absolutely mad and you’ve been waiting to surprise him with the new set you bought…

Pairing: John Price x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, mdni!)

Warnings: lingerie, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex (you know the drill, wrap it y'all), riding that man the way he deserves to be ridden

A/N: Lingerie lover Price has been in my head for literal months and I’m so happy this is finally finished!

You didn’t know how long you’ve been laying here waiting for an opportunity. You knew it would come, it had to. The only question was, when?

You had seen your chance around thirty minutes ago. John had shed his black, oversized zip-up hoodie, leaving him in nothing but his matching sweatpants. As much as you loved drinking in his shirtless form in the pale midmorning light, you knew that you had to take the chance he unwittingly opened up by leaving his jacket unattended on the back of a kitchen chair. Distracted by some paperwork, John hadn’t noticed when you discreetly pulled the soft hoodie from the chair beside him.

Laying on your bed, the fluffy, oversized hoodie was now the only thing keeping you warm. You had traded your own warm clothes for the new set of lingerie you had bought months ago. The crimson lace set had sat in the bottom of your drawer ever since, awaiting the perfect time to reveal it to John. The zipper of the hoodie was drawn down just below your bra line, enough to tease what hid below and pontificate the fact that you were bare in every other way. While you were sure that showing off this much skin would more than capture the man’s attention, it was cold while you waited, the morning air frigid as it slipped through the opening of your stolen hoodie.

The hoodie smelled like him. Mahogany and ash, thick and heedy. You let it envelop you, basking in the smell of home. It was the same smell found on his side of the bed, the one that you would always savor when he was gone.

“Love?” John called from down the hall. “Love, where are you?”

You tried to tamp down your butterflies as you simply responded, “Bedroom!”

You heard the thuds of his footsteps as he made his way down the hallway, skin against hardwood. You readjusted on the bed so that he would have the perfect view from the doorway, your bare legs extended out in front of you and his hoodie positioned so that the crimson peeked out at the top and the bottom.

He called out from the hallway, “Have you seen my blue thumb drive? I’ve been lookin’ everywhere and I can’t find the bloody thi-”

John froze the moment he rounded the corner, his eyes landing on you with his mouth ajar and his arm frozen mid neck scratch. His attention slid from your face down your body, locking onto the burning red bra and underwear half-hidden by his own piece of clothing. He was frozen as he took you in, eyes wide.

It took every ounce of willpower you had to maintain a facade of innocence. Blinking up at him through your lashes as if nothing was amiss, you replied, “I think the thumb drive is on the coffee table.”

John’s eyes snapped up to yours, pupils already blown wide. In a mere second, he switched from the soft, domestic man that had made you breakfast that morning to a man starved. This was the John that wrecked you for hours on end, the John that you had so hoped to draw out with your little stunt. You burned under the intensity of his gaze, giddy adrenaline shooting through you.

Got him.

John slowly strode to the bed, his eyes never leaving your form. Wordlessly, he crawled onto the bed so that you had to lay down for him to climb over top of you. Every muscle in his upper body was pulled taut as he settled over you, one knee on either side of your thighs. He planted one hand on the mattress beside your head and hovered the other over your midsection, clearly holding himself back from touching you while he eyed the present displayed beneath him.

“I thought you needed that thumb drive?” You teased, your voice low and laced with excitement. It was impossible to hide it now, not with the way he was looking down at you like he wanted to absolutely devour you.

“I don’t give a damn about that thumb drive right now, baby, ‘n you know it,” he nearly whispered, the low timber of his voice sending another shot of adrenaline through your veins. He trailed his hand down your exposed chest, your skin pebbling in his wake. Slipping his hand down to the black hoodie that hugged your frame, he moved a bit of it out of the way so he could get a better view of your front. “I was wonderin’ where this went.”

You gave him a mischievously innocent smile again, tugging at the soft fabric and pretending like you were about to take it off. “Well, if you need it back I’ll just-”

“No,” he rushed, sincerity in both his tone and his eyes even though he knew for a fact you were only baiting him. He was stern as he ordered, “Keep it on.”

“Yes, sir.”

John’s eyes flicked up to yours, burning brighter than a thousand suns. You weren’t cold now. No, now you felt like you were on fire, ablaze under the intensity of his gaze. You knew exactly how to play him, exactly which buttons to push to get that look in his eyes that you now saw.

“You’re a damn minx, love,” he groaned. Focusing his attention on your midsection once again, he slowly tugged the zipper down, gradually baring more and more of your skin to him. Once it was undone, he moved the soft fabric to your sides, leaving nothing blocking his view of your form.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured reverentially, his eyes wide as he took you in. He ran his hand down your torso, reveling in the way you keened under his touch. Despite the growing heat, the glide of his calloused fingers against your soft skin gave you chills. His hands traveled everywhere, lightly grasping at every inch of your torso and thighs as he drank in every bit of you. His eyes were clouded with love and lust as he lowered himself down and pressed his lips to the exposed valley between your breasts.

“John…” you pleaded softly.

John moved down to your stomach, his lips pressing a slow, sensual trail down, down, down. One hand kneaded your side while the other opened your thighs wider for him. Soon enough, he was nestled between your thighs, his broad shoulders making you open wide for him. His hungry eyes flicked from the strip of barely-there crimson lace that covered your core to your eager face. One side of his mustache quirked up in a teasing smile.

“How long ‘ave you been waiting in here, baby?” He asked before hooking his pointer finger in your underwear to swipe through your folds. A full, satisfied smile bloomed on his face when he found you already dripping, enough that the inside of the underwear was already soaked. “Tha’ answers my question: a while.”

You bucked your hips against his hand as you rasped, “Please, John.”

“You’ve been so patient,” he cooed, continuing to run his finger up and down your slit. “You deserve it, all wrapped up for me like the most gorgeous present I’ve ever seen.”

“Just for you.”

He groaned at that, eyes raking over you spread out before him. “I’m the luckiest fuckin’ man.”

Without any further preamble, he slid a finger into you. It was slow at first, an unhurried slide in and a gradual slide out. Being soaking wet, it already wasn’t enough, only enough to tease you of more to come.

He looked up at you as he continued to pump in and out, seemingly trying to burn this image of you in his mind. When you whined, looking for more, simply added a second finger into your heat, mumbling, “Tha’s it, love.”

You grabbed the sheets beside your head with one hand, slowly arching your back so that John got a good look at your barely-covered chest. A groan ripped through him at the sight, his love for how your form looked in the tantalizing lingerie something you knew exactly how to fuel.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” he groaned, his voice even lower and more gravelly than normal. The combination of his lust-filled voice and his praise made you clench down on the two fingers moving slowly deep inside you.

Then, John pulled the thin lace panties even farther to the side, dipping his head down towards your core. No matter how many times you felt his tongue on you, you could never fully prepare to feel it again. He started where his fingers were sliding into you, the heat of his tongue sliding up, up, up until it found your clit. He circled the bundle of nerves slowly at first, his expert movements pulling a whine from you.

His beard scratched against your skin, surely to leave a beard burn for later like it had so many times before. But you couldn’t care. Right now, the feeling only added to the overwhelming pleasure that was building in your stomach.

Mouth moving in tandem with his fingers, he began to steadily increase his speed. Now, John did nothing short of devour you, the pace he set almost overwhelming. He worshiped you, his mouth showing you more than it could ever tell.

Your hand flew down to grasp at his soft brown hair, barely able to find enough to hold onto.

“John! Fuck, don’t stop, baby. Don’t–” you babbled, your sentence devolving into a moan.

John’s throaty groan sent shockwaves through you as he ground his hips against the bed, searching for his own relief. On any normal day, it would take a lot longer before he was this desperate, his self-control usually as strong as steel… until you eventually broke it. By the time he finally cracked – his need for you finally overtaking his self-control – he had already slowly and meticulously taken you apart and put you back together more times than you could count. But lingerie, you had found, shattered that self-control like it was glass almost immediately. Once his eyes landed on you, he was gone. There was no teasing, no edging, no slow buildup when he was like this. He needed you.

The coil that had been tightening in your stomach finally snapped, pleasure flooding your senses. You arched against John’s face, your thighs trapping him between them. Unbothered, he simply continued to wreck you, working you through the high as your muscles jumped at each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck!” you heaved. You lightly tugged on his light brown strands of hair as you released him from your thighs. Taking the hint, he pulled his fingers from you before trailing kisses up your body. When his lips finally met yours, he quickly slipped his tongue past your lips.

Trailing a hand over the front of his soft sweatpants, you found him hard and straining against the material. John groaned against your lips at the pressure before pushing up to shed his pants and boxers, tossing the garments carelessly to the floor. His cock was red and already weeping as he fisted himself a few times, his eyes raking over you hungrily.

“Wish you could see how fuckin’ beautiful you look, love,” he lamented as he leaned down to you again. “Had me about to come in my boxers like I’m a bloody teenager again.”

You hummed, letting him settle his hips between your thighs once again. “Then we wouldn’t get to my favorite part,” you quipped. “Maybe I should tone it down a little then.”

John guided his cock through your folds before he finally began to push in, inch by glorious inch, the stretch pulling a moan from you. He whispered, “You’ll get it. You’ll take every bit of me just like you wanted.”

Clawing your fingers into the soft flesh of his back, you tried to relax as you acclimated to his size. The few testing thrusts he made added fuel to the fire already ablaze in the pit of your stomach. There he was, deep inside you and yet all you wanted — all you needed — was more. You needed more of him, needed everything he could give you.

You leaned up and kissed his collarbone, silently letting him know that you were ready. Then, John fulfilled your every wish, almost as if he had been reading your mind.

He pressed up so that he hovered above you, eyes glassy with lust as he took you in beneath him before he drew himself out of you and promptly snapped his hips to yours once again. He took in every one of your movements — the way you rocked with the force of his thrust, the way you pushed against the bed as you moaned his name — almost as if he was searing the sight into his brain. It would be a warm memory for him to take with him when he would inevitably be called away to some place on the other side of the world, a memory to keep him warm on some cold, lonely night. Hell, it would be for you, too.

He built up to a bruising pace, one that stole the air from your lungs. All you could do was let yourself be swept away in the tidal waves of ecstasy.

John. John. John. That’s all there was.

A rough, calloused hand slid up your stomach to knead at the plush of your covered breast. Through the thin lace, his fingers played with your nipple, his touch electric.

“Tha’s it, baby. Tha’s it…”

“Fuck!” You moaned.

If you had any sense left, you would’ve wondered how John could have the inhuman stamina that he fucked you with now. No normal man could ever hold the pace that he slammed his hips into yours over and over again. White hot pleasure burned in your veins, your moans flowing free as he wrecked you.

You danced at the edge of your orgasm for what felt like forever, every one of John’s grunts in your ear bringing you closer and closer to the finish line. Finally, with a particularly rough slam of his hips into yours, you tumbled over that precipice, free-falling in pure ecstasy.

John fucked you through it, allthewhile mumbling breathy words of encouragement. “Ju’s like tha’. Come for me, beautiful.”

As you came down, you found John chasing his own high. Despite your current state, you couldn’t help but want to show off one last time to help bring him the same pleasure you had just found.

“John… John, wanna ride you.”

Stark blue eyes snapped open to find yours, lust completely consuming his every feature. There was nothing he loved more than the sight of you riding him on a normal day, let alone one where you were dressed in the thing that drove him wild. For the second time that day, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand.

Soon, he was seated on the bed and you were throwing your leg over his hip before sinking back down onto him again. Finally free to roam, his strong, steady hands kneaded at your thighs, your ass, your hips as he took in the sight of you above him like a man starved.

As you began to move your hips, John’s grip on you tightened. With his head in a particularly ideal spot, hot lips lavished your collarbone, teeth nipping as he made his way down the valley of your breasts.

You sped up the movement of your hips, his hips beginning to move in time with yours. Suddenly, he pulled the both of you down so that he was laying back on the bed with you over top of him, the sides of your hoodie falling over his chest. From this position, he was able to plant his feet to fuck up into you as you rode him.

As you both continued to build back up to a punishing pace, John threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut as he groaned out a strained, “Fuck! F-fuckin’ - ah - ‘ell!”

John wasn’t a quiet man in bed by any means, but he didn’t usually yell out like this unless he was completely lost in you. It was a telltale sign that he was almost there.

“Come for me, John,” you moaned. “Give it to me, baby. Fill me up.”

With a deep groan, John roughly grabbed your hips and fucked into you as deep as he could. Hot cum coated your walls as he slowly fucked it into you. The strong muscle of his stomach jumped under you as he emptied everything he had, his breath ragged.

His eyes were squeezed shut beneath you, closed from the force of his orgasm. Slowly, you leaned down and kissed him lightly. His eyes fluttered open only long enough to find you, curl his hand over the back of your head, and pull you down for a proper, heated kiss.

I love you, it said. Unmistakably: I love you.

“I think you got a little sidetracked from your work,” you laughed.

John chuckled, sarcastically rolling his eyes. “I think you’ve cleared my schedule for the day, you bloody gorgeous minx.”

“Is that so? You must really like the red lace.”

Slowly, he guided his hoodie down your arms and tossed it to the side.

“I do…” John whispered in your ear.

His fingers ghosted up your back before unhooking your bra and tossing it carelessly to the floor just as he had done with the hoodie, leaving your chest bare.

“But I like you more.”

#john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 headcanons #barry sloane #captain john price x reader #cod #call of duty #my writing

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 1 year ago

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Hi so I wanted to request something I just thought of if that’s okay! A little meet cute story from season 4 where reader is the midwife who helped deliver Henry and her and Reid meet in the hospital and just hit it off🥺

this is so cute! this strays a lot from the plot of the episode because i haven't watched it forever and don't feel like it lmao

The Lanky Guy in Room 603

She wasn't sure if the long, lanky man curled up in the uncomfortable chair was Jennifer's brother or husband. He looked young; with a blemish-free baby face and a mop of soft brown hair. She could tell it had a slight curl to it and she had to resist an urge to tuck the stray pieces that fanned out behind his ear. Perhaps it was because she spent her days and nights caring for expecting parents, she just couldn't help but want to care for the sleeping man.

Jennifer was watching television, a pained look on her face as she held her round belly.

"You said it would be today," Jennifer groaned, the pain of labor evident on her face, "It's almost tomorrow."

Y/N sat on the stool beside Jennifer's bed, "I know I did, honey." She pressed a damp cloth to Jennifer sweaty face, attempting to cool down her body temperature. "But it seems like this little baby's got a mind of their own."

"Just like her mother."

The voice came from behind her. The sleep man, now not sleeping, unfolded himself from his pretzel-like position on the chair. He joints popped as he stretched his legs. Y/N noticed his socks were patterned. His left foot donned socks with gray tabby cats and a navy blue background. His right foot donned pumpkins on a lavender background.

Jennifer smiled, thanking Y/N for the damp cloth, as her companion checked her vitals. He peered at the numbers, probably attempting to decipher their meanings regarding his wife's health.

"Your wife is perfectly healthy, sir. You''ll have a healthy, sweet, baby within the next day. I'm sure of it."

Jennifer chuckled, "He's not my husband. Spencer's my....."

"Co-worker. Very proud godfather of her soon to be born baby girl?" Spencer injected, still reading the vitals.

"I'm concerned about JJ's vitals. Are you sure that her lab work is updated? It needs to reflect the high stress nature of her job. And her blood pressure? It was last checked thirteen minutes and twenty seven seconds ago. And does the satellite birth center have enough blood in the bank. On average a laboring mother may loose about...."

"Spence," Jennifer, or JJ as the man named Spencer called her, "I'm going to be just fine. The baby is going to be just fine. Please don't harass the midwife. Or I'll have to switch you out for Penny instead."

"You know if you wanted to get stuff done, you should've picked Hotch or Emily," Spencer countered, "I'm just going to be a nervous wreck."

"You're going to be fine. And think of it as practice for when your wife is pregnant. You'll be a pro by the time that rolls around."

Spencer chuckled dryly. His cheeks blushed crimson as he checked the clock. "It's now been fourteen minutes and thirty four seconds." He whispered under his breath.

"Are you and your wife expecting as well? It kinda smart for her to send you here for a dry run?" Y/N commented, making light talk with Jennifer and Spencer. Through her couple of years a midwife, she learned that many laboring parents and their companions need to have their minds occupied.

"N-no, no wife," Spencer said, his lips formed a tight smile as he looked at Y/N and then back to Jennifer, "We have a very time consuming job. Dating is hard. And family life is even harder. It’s common for many families in the BAU to end with divorce between the two partners.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Spence,” Jennifer quipped as a wave of labor pains came over her.

“I don’t mean you and Will,” Spencer backtracked, “You’re not even married to him.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at Spencer, and Y/N got the sense that the Spencer and Jennifer shared a sibling-like relationship. It made sense, she supposed as she watched Spencer continuously checked Jennifer’s vitals. He hovered like a mother hen, but made no attempt at physical contact like the husbands usually did.

“Distract her,” Y/N whispered to Spencer, “And don’t talk about how her marriage is statistically likely to end in divorce. That’s not the way to comfort a mom that’s about to push a 8 pound baby out of her vagina.”

Spencer shut his mouth quickly, returning to Jennifer’s side. As Y/N walked out of the room, she noted that the soon to be godfather asked her if she needed anything.

***

“Y/N!” Nurse Lorraine said from her perch. “That tall kid from Room 603, the one that looks like he’s about to faint? He’s looking for you.”

Room 603? Y/N checked her chats, shuffling through the pile of laboring parents.

Ah! That would be Jennifer Jareau. And her very eager friend/co-worker/godfather of her child.

“Oh, Spencer? He’s a sweetheart. Trying to help her. He could teach those husbands a thing or too.” Y/N said, as she typed away at her computer.

“He’s not the husband?” Lorraine questioned, her tone making Y/N stop typing.

“What are you doing, Lo?” Y/N sighed with exasperation. “You’re meddling. And it’s not a cute look, I’m afraid.”

“It’s been how long since that idiot of a man dumped you for his unpaid intern? Todd? Taylor? What was his name again?”

“Tyler. He was an ass. I don’t think I’m ready to get myself back out there. He really did a number on me.” Y/N lamented. She took a sip of her third coffee of the day. It was a distraction from tearing up or worse, actually crying in front of Lorraine, the hardass nurse who makes Attendings cry.

“Y/N, honey,” Lorraine sighed, “Don’t waste your youth or your beauty on someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not saying that man in 603 deserves you, but he’s holding his coworker’s hand as she’s delivering a baby that’s not his. All because her boyfriend is stuck at work in New Orleans. He’s a good man. And he’s looking for you. And he blushed when he asked for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Lorraine’s gossipy tendencies. “How do you know all that? I’ve been with him all day and I hardly can get him to tell me his name. Beside the snide comments about me not checking the vitals enough.”

“See! He’s protective over people he cares about, even if talking to the gorgeous nurse terrifies him. I can lock you two in the supply close if you’d like. I mean the piles and piles of extra large padsicles and bed pens aren’t very romantic, but maybe romance isn’t what you need right now.” Lorraine quipped.

Ignoring Lorraine, “I’m going to see what he wants from me.” Y/N said, recoiling because she knew Lorraine would twist her words into some sort of sexual innuendo.

“Go get’em, Tiger!” Lorraine called from the Nurse’s Station with a mischievous glint in her eye.

***

“Spencer?” Y/N whispered, noting that Jennifer was sleeping in her bed, “Nurse Lorraine said you wanted to speak to me.”

Even in the dark room, minus the glow of equipment monitoring Jennifer, Y/N could see his light blush. He was cute. She thought that before Lorraine even broached the subject. She though that when she silently wondered if he was Jennifer’s husband or not.

He was cute. Handsome, even.

Spencer couldn’t be more than 26 or 27. He had brown eyes that were kind and warm. Spencer looked gentle, and that was evident by the easy way he cared for Jennifer.

“I wanted to make sure I was doing it right,” Spencer confessed, “I’m not really good with all this,” he waved his hand around the room to show what he meant, “My mind can only focus on the possibilities of what can go wrong. I’m not cut out for this.”

“For what being a companion? A godfather? Spencer, Jennifer clearly cares for you and wants you in her baby’s life. She sees that you’re kind and caring and gentle.”

Spencer cracked a smile, warming Y/N heart. She hated it. Yet she liked it. And that only made her hate it more.

“Thanks.” Spencer said, taking a sip of his probably now cold coffee.

“You know there’s an excellent microwave in the nurse’s lounge room. Lorraine bullies enough attendings that I can totally sneak you in there to warm up your coffee.” Y/N offered, “Jennifer needs sleep. It’s the best thing for her right now. Besides, I can teach you how to swaddle a baby and change a diaper.”

“I know how to deliver a baby,” Spencer said, “It’s a lot messier than I thought.” He said with a shiver.

“Are you in healthcare?” Y/N asked they walked to the nurse’s lounge. It was so late that most of the families were either sleeping, in labor, or being discharged. “You certainly know a lot about medicine. And for the record we do have plenty of blood in stock. But we’re looking for donors every third Tuesday if the month.”

“Not technically. Well, not the doctor you’re thinking of at least. I have three PhDs. In mathematics, chemistry, and psychology. It’s….a lot I know,” He offered a small smile, “People either think I’m like some super genius or a freak. But not. I’m just….me.”

“Well I happen to think that you’re pretty awesome just being you. I can’t technically say it, but you and Jennifer are my favorites of the night. So it’s only my duty as a L&D nurse to make sure you are the best baby swaddling godfather in the metro area.”

“Now that’s quite the title to live up to. Do we use real babies or dolls to practice?” Spencer inquired.

Y/N giggled as she reached into the supply closet, “I’m in the business of delivering babies. Not kidnapping them, Dr. Spencer……?”

“Reid.”

“Reid.” She nodded, handing him a baby doll to practice with. “If it was twelve hours earlier I would be making you wrap my burrito to practice.”

“I think I’m going to equally as bad as wrapping a burrito as I would be a baby.” He confessed.

“Fear not, young grasshopper, your teacher is here.” Y/N teased, grabbing Spencer by the arm to the table where she ate lunch every day with Lorraine and Hector, her favorite to nurses on the floor.

She laid out a blanket and a baby on the table as her and Spencer stood side by side. “So fold the corner of the blanket down for the baby’s head to rest. And the you gently lay the baby down. Now wrap over the left triangle to the baby’s middle.” She watched as he followed expertly, “Good! Now fold up the little triangle at the baby’s feet. Make sure it’s snug, but not too tight.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Spencer said as he folded the last part of the blanket and held up a swaddled baby doll.

“Now try when it when a baby is screaming at you and you’ve been on your feet for ten hours.”

“I’ll sit to my day job,” Spencer joked, “But call me if you ever need a swaddling partner.”

Y/N’s face heated at the thought of calling Spencer, of talking to him beyond this night when he friend was about to give birth.

“Where did you learn how to deliver a baby?” She asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

“I read about it.” Spencer replied.

“In college? Did you take a human biology class on pregnancy as well?”

“Uh, no,” Spencer said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I read about it. I read it today when JJ was getting admitted.”

“Getting admitted takes like 30 minutes? How on Earth did you read about human delivery in 30 minutes?” Y/N asked with awe on her face.

“Actually, it took 31 minutes and twelve seconds. Which is 2 minutes and 39 seconds faster than the average,” He blushed when Y/N raised eyes meant his comment only added to her questions, not answered them, “I have a very good memory. And I can read fast.” He explained.

“Oh,” Y/N said, taking out two mugs from the cabinet, “that explains the three PhDs and how you hounded me about vitals before. You’re brilliant. And a very good friend.”

“I don’t get brilliant often. Genius, yes. Freak, yes. Strange, yes. But brilliant isn’t usually reserved for me. I think my quirks out weigh my strengths and thus that changes how I’m perceived.”

“Well, I don’t see a freak or a stranger,” Y/N told him, “I see a man who’s probably 6’3” that crammed himself into a tiny plastic chair and has been fetching ice chips and throwing down with the toughest nurse to get his friend a blanket. That’s not a freak. Or a weirdo. Or anything besides a good, gentle, kind man. I don’t really know you, but it’s my job to watch people here. I watch all these husbands who don’t dote on their wives as they push a whole baby out of their bodies. They complain to them about how long it took to find parking, or that they had to pay 10 bucks for a decent cup of coffee at the cafe, or that the chairs hurt their back. I haven’t heard you say that once. You’re good, Spencer. There’s a reason Jennifer wants you to be her baby’s godfather.”

Stunned, Spencer’s lip twitched into what resembled a smile. He bit his lip as his eyes scanned the room.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, “it means more than you know.”

“Good. You seem like the kind of person that deserves to hear good things. And plus, I’m sure your wife or girlfriend will be very happy you spent the night learning how to swaddle babies and change diapers.”

“Uh, I’m not committed to anyone.” Spencer corrected, the blush returned to his face, this time it crawled all the way up to his ears. It only increased his cuteness as it increased the way Y/N’s heart pumped blood. Her nervous system was on overdrive and she hasn’t even touched the man. Yet there was something about him that drew him to her.

“Oh, seeing someone casually and don’t want to freak her out?” Y/N offered. “Because I will admit that’s not what you want to say to the girl you have a situationship with.”

“A situationship?” Spencer questioned, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m not seeing anyone casually or otherwise. It’s never been my strong suit.”

“Seriously?” Y/N said, pouring her coffee and Spencer a cup, “That’s very surprising.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, accepting the coffee with a tight lipped smile.

“Not to cross any professional boundaries, but you’re literally what most girls look for when they want a partner. Especially one that they want to you know,” she gestured to the baby doll on the table, “settle down with. You’re husband material.”

“Husband material?” Spencer asked, clearly beyond confusion. It was like it was his first time hearing that he was desirable to women. An overwhelming urge to tell him just how desirable he was to her overcame Y/N.

She fought it hard.

“You know,” she started, “you’ve got a great job, nice and normal friends, you’re close friends with a woman, but there’s zero sexual tension between the two of you. That means a lot to girls. It means that you can see women as whole people.”

“What else would I see them as?” Spencer questioned aloud. “They’re people. Not props or conquests.”

Y/N threw her hands up in surrender as if she finally has given up. “See, you’re like perfect. Not to mention you’re very nice to look at.”

Spencer gulped a big sip of coffee, but the burning liquid spewed out all over him and the table. Y/N dodged it, spending nearly three years getting out of the way of mysterious liquids from all different patients had certainly paid off.

“Sorry, sorry, god that was embarrassing,” Spencer lamented. “I hope I didn’t get it all over you.” He apologized.

Holding in a giggle, Y/N waved off his fears. “Don’t worry. You’re just fine, Spencer.”

In more ways than one, she thought silently to herself.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. It’s highly unprofessional of me to comment on your appearance.”

No matter how attractive she finds him.

Spencer’s face melted as she apologized. “No!” He practically yelled. “Don’t think that. Please don’t think that. I didn’t mind it at all. It’s just, I’m not used to hearing it. Especially from women that are like you.”

“Like me?”

“Smart. Hardworking. Kind. Funny. Beautiful.” Spencer confessed.

The last one hit a certain part of her heart that went pang. Tyler never called her beautiful. He would call her hot and sexy, but not beautiful. But maybe once he did. But he said she “looked beautiful” not that she was beautiful.

There was a difference between looking beautiful and being beautiful. And she was looking right at it.

“Spencer,” Y/N whispered. “Once Jennifer is discharged from L&D could I maybe take you out on a date?“

Spencer nodded, and she swore she could see his eyes light up at the possibility of something between them.

“Sure. Isn’t there a blood donation clinic next week?” He smiled and took a sip of his coffee, “I promise I won’t spew coffee all over you when you compliment me again,”

***

Tagging people who are active But please reblog and comment if you stumble across this. It’s a great way we can show our love :)

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @foxy-eva @candlesandsoftrain @radiant-reid

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #reid all about it #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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caramelbowtie · 3 months ago

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Fix-it-Felix and Calhoun as ponies!! :D Finally these are done!

Calhoun gave me trouble because I REALLY wanted her to be a bat pony, but I struggled to find the balance of getting colors from her canon appearance with the colors of the Luna Guard Armor. Especially her mane. BUT WE DID IT AND IM SO HAPPY

Felix has little hearts on his hooves and is shaped more like a g3 my littls pony. Because FFFJ is a VINTAGE game, get it? I applied the hearts to Wrecking Ball too. :]]

Some extra notes:

⭐️Dr. Bright Spark = Dr. Brad Scott

⭐️Her cutiemark has the shape of the Hero's Medal hehe.

⭐️ Helping Hammer gets his blue coat and his horn from his mom

⭐️Wrecking Ball is Helping Hammers cousin

⭐️Helping Hammer and Turboflash were childhood friends.

⭐️In the picnic picture Turboflash is using his changeling powers to appear as his Pegasus form because he feels insecure.

⭐️Nitro Storm has a crush on Wrecking Ball

Also the Turbotime Twins hosted a picnic after the events of the episodes.

#mlp au #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #wreck it ralph au #fix it felix jr #sergeant calhoun #turbotastic #my litte pony friendship is magic

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eudemonia13 · 19 days ago

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In Bloom

Asmodeus x Reader

Fluff. W.C. 2348

Asmo learns just how much you adore him with the help of human world flower language

Asmodeus liked the Winter.

He liked how the blanket of snow, untouched and perfect, looked like angel down. How the beautiful white hydrangeas were captured in a frosted moment of stillness, as close to being immortalised as he would ever be. Glittering beneath the pale moon like stars fallen from the sky.

He liked the breathlessness that caught his lungs when the cold wind danced through his hair, the tremble of his hands as he took fistfulls of powdery snow and felt his nerves protest before they grew numb.

There was beauty in it, a kind that was out of reach lest it melt from even the gentlest touch. Like a snowflake resting on his fingertip, no matter how cold he willed his blood to run, it would always melt. A beauty that would fade if he held it, no matter how many times he reached out. He smiled, because there was beauty in that yearning too.

Tonight there was no such comfort. It was hot, loud, and buzzing with the energy of lust and passion coursing through the streets. Early in his life he had learned, summer was hot no matter the realm.

Whether it was the ticklish kiss of endless light in the Celestial gardens, or the jewel blues and ivory whites that stretched to the horizon of a human world beach, or even the promising, rich darkness of the Devildom as lights flashed and sweet perfume mingled with smoke like an aphrodisiac, all had a exhilarating energy. All felt like young love, like sugar and sticky lips, and whispered secrets he really should have kept.

In the middle of it all, posed effortlessly beneath an illuminated bar sign, Asmodeus stood waiting more impatient by the minute.

Really, he knew better.

Craning his neck down to steal a glimpse at his D.D.D, and another not thirty seconds later, like the entire street didn’t have him in their sights. Like every perfect, irresistible inch of him wasn’t being watched. Not that a tilt of his head and a pout didn’t look good, he was sure anyone with eyes would be falling over themselves to witness such a cute sight, let alone be the cause of it… But that wasn’t the point. He didn’t chase, he didn’t stand outside any club waiting. He didn’t have to show up 20 minutes early to any date. He was Asmodeus.

All it took was a smile and a pretty bat of his eyes and he had anything, anyone he wanted. But that didn’t matter, because you saw straight through him.

You, a pretty little human with a heart as impenetrable as ice. A human with eyes as sharp as a knife, and a mind to match. You, the quick witted, daring little lambwho had convinced him to give himself to you for just a chance to get close enough to lose himself in the enigma that you were.

His master, who cut him down like it was nothing with those piercing eyes. You treated him like he was anybody else. It didn’t matter that seduction was dripping from his tongue when he called your name, or that his hands hinted at all the wonderful things he could do to you when he painted your nails and traced his name into your palm…

That wasn’t enough for you, you didn’t want quick and easy pleasure, or to reap the benefits that would come with sleeping with him. You didn’t want him, not like that, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. For the first time in his life, the beautiful mask he wore couldn’t hide the things he buried beneath the surface. . . .

“So tell me, have all your needs been met during your stay with us?” He smiled, massaging a luxurious cream into his hands. You were in bed, relaxing in the shared guest room of the Demon lord's castle. His eyes drifted along your form through the reflection of his vanity. Taking in every dip and curve of your body, draped beneath the vermillion blanket that made it so much more fun to imagine what was underneath. “For the most part. It took me a while to get used to no sun, my sleep schedule has been a wreck.” Your voice was soft and a little bit hoarse, no doubt weakened by the eventful day behind you and the pull of sleep.

Simeon had left to look after Luke, which was fine by Asmo, having a moment alone with you was rare. Mammon had been clinging to you like a wet blanket, hovering around you from the moment you had made him yours. Though he hated to admit it, Lust and Greed had more in common than one might think. Both of them wanted.

“Hm, I’d hate to see that delicate skin of yours become dull, Little lamb… If you aren’t sleeping, there are more than a few ways to pass the time and wear you out.” He smiled at you, holding your gaze while trailing his hand down his forearm, and under his robe. You smiled at him and shook your head. “Haha, I’m good thanks.”

The heavy silence that had settled was cut by the chime of your notifications going off. With a stretch, you patted your arm around and reached for your D.D.D. “So, uh…” He didn’t look up, letting you continue.

But you didn’t. This wasn’t something he was used to, people were stunned by his beauty, yeah, blessed by his presence… But no compliments fell from your lips, no dreamy look glossed over your eyes, and his oh so tempting offer hadn’t stolen your breath. Were you scared? Ah, how cute!

Before he could say anything, your D.D.D chimed again and you turned your attention to your screen. A scowl quickly formed on your face, but even in the dim candlelight, he could see the affection in your eyes.

“That dummy…” You sat up and typed back a message to, undoubtedly, Mammon. Fighting to keep a smile off your face.

Instead of speaking, he looked away. What did Mammon have that brought you out of your shell? What could his annoying, loud, stupid older brother have that made you smile like that? And why didn’t you smile at him like that? Didn’t you see him? The Avatar of Lust! In nothing but a satin robe! All alone in your bedroom, and you were paying attention to Mammon?

Lust, and Greed… Even in the darkness, he was certain you could see the shimmer of sin in his eyes. But you didn’t look at him again. . . .

It was fifteen minutes now. Fifteen long, slow minutes until you would meet him. Flicking open his compact mirror, he studied the glittery eyeshadow he had dusted over his lids. It enhanced the natural draw of his eyes, which he hoped would keep your eyes on his. He understood, of course, that he didn’t have to impress you but he was still, well, he was still Asmo.

A little glitter, a little flirting, that was who he was! But you had shown him that wasn’t all he was. . . .

“Oh, Asmo! I’ve been looking for you.” He opened his eyes, and yawned. Maybe Belphie was onto something with these afternoon naps. You ran up to him, holding a basket of different flowers. “Hi, Hon. Don’t tell me you’re actually going to do that assignment?” By the looks of it, you were. Bits of dirt had stained the cuffs of your uniform, and you smelled like petrichor, earthy. Roots and stems stuck out of the woven basket as if you had stuffed it full.

“Uh, yeah. Of course I am.” You shook your head, not everyone could get away with handing in a premade bouquet like him.

The cultural exchange class, part of the new curriculum for the exchange program, had issued an assignment about flowers. More specifically, contrasting and comparing symbolism between the three realms flower languages and social history. He was excited at first, but after hearing that he was expected to grow and pick the flowers himself, he was out. Uh uh, he was not getting dirt under his nails

“Come on, it’s not so bad! Sol taught me a spell to instantly sprout and blossom these little guys.” You handed him the basket, which he daintily took. “Hm. I don’t see how that’s any better, but show me what you’ve got.” You grinned and sat beside him, watching him open the basket.

“These are Gypsophila, or baby’s breath. Narcissus-.” He giggled at that one. “Just listen okay!” He threw his hands up and nodded as you continued. “Otherwise known as daffodil. This one is Heliotrope.” He twirled it between his fingers, admiring the little blossoms you had grown. “So what do they mean?” He set them back and moved to give you back your basket. Instead, you gently set it in his lap. “You’re gonna have to figure that out yourself, Pretty boy.”

Pulling a thick tome, or… Gardening book, out of your school bag, you placed it among the flowers and smiled. Before he could protest, you bounded up to your feet, leaned over, and kissed his temple. He felt the warmth of your breath against his skin as you pulled back. “Oh! I-I…” His tongue fumbled over all the clever responses he was struggling to think of.

Tucking his hair back, you pulled a stem from your sleeve and placed it behind his ear. It was a small white flower, with not a speck of dirt on it. You had clearly spent the most effort on this one, preening the stem and leaves so it would rest comfortably in his hair.

His eyes widened and he stared at you, you were so close to him… His face felt hot and he didn’t try to speak again. “Alyssum.”

“What?” You giggled, and stepped back. “That one…” You nodded towards the blossom adorning his ear. “Is Alyssum. I think it suits you, and…” You paused, looking away. “Well, just read the book and do your homework!” Laughing, you ran off just as quickly as you had come. The sound rang out like bells, as you rounded the hedges and left. Asmodeus blinked, and finally breathed out.

Looking down at the basket and all the pretty flowers, he realised there wasn’t dirt on any of them. Each one, while not as pristine as the Alyssum, was preened and carefully selected so he could handle them without sullying his hands. You had grown them… For him? His hand covered his mouth, and he giggled softly. Picking up the book you had left him, he felt giddy to learn what each one meant. . . .

Ten minutes now. Ten minutes to ready himself, ten minutes until he could tell you he had gotten an ‘A’ on his assignment, and that he was so… Happy. Tears blurred his sight, and he wiped them away before they could ruin his makeup. The chatter of the crowds had faded out, the scorching heat and weight of all the eyes on him gone. His mind was spinning and he had to keep reminding himself to be patient. He would see you soon and he just couldn’t mess up the delicate bouquet he kept behind his back. Gosh, would you like them? Were they pretty enough for you? Would you… Would you understand?

Looking around anxiously, he stood on his tip toes and searched the crowds for you. He didn’t feel you, but maybe you would show up early? Maybe you wanted to see him sooner too?

Ever since he had made a pact with you, he felt elated. That piercing clarity, that cold beauty finally felt like it would last. You were Winter. Sharp, beautiful, and ephemeral in a way that made his heart ache.

The demon shook himself off, and took a deep breath. He would know when you were there.

He didn’t have many pacts, sure. Just two. His pact with Solomon was different, it felt like electricity. Like power that commanded attention the moment his little human master was anywhere near him. His mark felt like the tingle of static in the air before lightning struck, dangerous and seductive like all power was.

But you felt… Softer, or maybe more subtle. There was no doubt that you were strong, you could subdue him with an effortless, overwhelming force that not even Humanity's strongest sorcerer could command. There was elegance and mystery in your power, like you had a secret that he oh so very much wanted to unveil.

Asmo was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of frost forming in his mind.

Cold, invigorating winds rushed through him. A feeling of calm, serenity filled his chest. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the soft kiss of snowflakes on his face. His pact mark tingled and his skin raised like he had laid back into fresh snow. You were here.

Opening his eyes, he grinned and turned around. You waved and smiled at him. You were here early and he didn’t have time to give himself a once over before. Was his hair nice? Did his makeup run? Did you notice he was wearing your favourite colour?

“Hey, you’re here early!” He put on a charming, flirty smirk. “Did you want to see me sooner?” Tilting your head, you laughed and his heart stuttered. “Definitely.” Only you wouldn’t point out that he was there first.

With a quick, deep breath, he pulled the carefully arranged bouquet of Forget me nots and held them out to you. He had rehearsed all the things he wanted to say, all the words he could use to make you see him. Instead, like a little kid, he held a fistfull of flowers in front of his face and avoided your gaze.

Your eyes sparkled, like stars fallen from the sky. Glittering like snow beneath the moon. And he was left breathless, hands trembling as he felt the rush of a powerless yearning overtake him.

You took the bouquet, and he knew you understood.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfic #asmo x reader #asmo x mc #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x reader

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cyarikaplease · 11 days ago

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wreck my plans, that’s my man

din djarin x f!reader

summary: You’re the daughter of a senator on Coruscant and you’ve been set up in an arranged marriage to another senator’s son for both your father and his father’s political gain. Your father hires Din Djarin to transport you to Naboo where you’re supposed to meet your fiancé’s family and prepare for the wedding. On the trip to Naboo you form a relationship together in secret but after you arrive on Naboo he’s hired to be your bodyguard up until the wedding. But will you actually go though with the wedding? That’s for you and Din to decide.

You gaze down at the sea of speeders beneath you as you stand on your balcony on Coruscant. The industrialized planet is a far cry from your home, Savareen. You never thought in your wildest dreams you would miss the deserts and the oceans of your home planet but now that you moved to Coruscant you’re missing it now more than ever. Your father decided he wanted a career in politics so he moved your family to Coruscant. You definitely could live on your own back home but your father wanted everyone together for his “political image” or whatever.

You hear your father calling your name behind you so you look over your shoulder to find him and an unknown man standing across the room.

“I want to introduce you to Senator Lokato,” he says.

You turn to walk over to them, and notice that Senator Lokato is wearing the typical senator “uniform”; dark colored robes that go all the way down to the floor. Senator Lokato’s are a dark gray and your father’s are navy blue. It’s weird seeing your father trying to fit in with these types of people.

“Hello. Nice to meet you,” you say awkwardly, not really understanding what your business was with him.

“I know you’ve been struggling to make friends and meet others your age here so we thought you’d like to meet his son.”

“...Okay,” you say hesitantly, following them down the hallway and into your parent’s living room.

There’s a man sitting on the couch who you can only assume is Senator Lokato’s son. He’s about your age, maybe a few years older. He rises when he sees you and walks to meet you in the middle of the room.

“I’m Valsi. Pleased to meet a lovely lady like yourself,” he says, giving you a suggestive smirk.

Maybe you would be flattered by his forward nature if he weren’t so… plain looking. He’s a little taller than you, a tad muscular and just so… plain. He’s got the kind of eyes that are just soulless and he bares a striking resemblance to his father.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you offer politely.

“Well, we’ll let you two get to know each other,” Senator Lokato says, clapping his hands together.

“Yes, have fun you two!” your father says a bit too cheerily before leaving with Lokato.

“Please, sit,” Valsi says… in your own home.

You sit on the couch, keeping your body language tight and uninviting. The more you see of this guy the more you realize you’re not gonna want anything to do with him.

“I’m not sure what your father has told you but I have family on Naboo. We could raise the children there, of course. We can bring them to visit Savareen, too. But… a more civilized place like Naboo is better. And Coruscant is too busy for small children. Maybe we could relocate here when they’re older? But-”

“Excuse me?” you ask. You were zoning out at the sound of his monotone voice until he started mentioning children.

“Well of course we’re going to have children?” he says, in a tone that makes it sound like you’re the stupid one.

“Of course we’re going to have children? We don’t know each other. I literally just met you today,” you snap back.

“Oh, I see. Your father didn’t tell you. We’re getting married.”

“You’re funny if you think I’m getting married to you,” you laugh.

“You can laugh all you want but our fathers already made a deal. We get married in a month,” he says, folding his arms.

The realization is settling in. Your father was trying to get you to “make friends” alright. He’s trying to sell you off to some man for his own political game. You should’ve seen this coming. Ever since your father has become a member of the Senate he’s been obsessed with perfecting his image and gaining more public approval.

“You might be okay being a puppet for your father but I’m certainly not,” you snap, getting up and storming over to the door.

As you enter the hallway you see your father and Lokato who were clearly listening in on your interaction. You scoff at them both and stomp off your bedroom.

“She’ll come around,” you hear your father say softly before closing the sliding door behind you.

You fall into your bed and start crying; the weight of everything hitting you all at once. Between being forced to leave your home planet, moving to a strange new place and now all of a sudden being shoved into an arranged marriage you’re feeling completely hopeless.

Eventually you drift off to sleep, your own tears aiding you in the process. Your dreams are filled with your home planet and of travels all on your own, with no one forcing you to go anywhere or do anything. It almost feels too real because when you wake up you forget the horrors of reality for a moment.

You get changed into a silky pale blue dress before returning to the living room. That was another thing about your father’s new found political life; your wardrobe was completely different. Gone were the days of flowy pants, boots and earth tones. Now your wardrobe consists of extravagant gowns, robes and jewelry. It’s all very beautiful and maybe just maybe you could enjoy your new look if it wasn’t being forced upon you.

You find your father sitting on the couch, reading something on his holo-pad. When he notices your presence he looks up and shoots you a faux sympathetic glance. You sit on the opposite end of the couch silently, not even knowing what to say to the man who’s trying to strip you of your bodily autonomy.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I just think this is what’s best for us. The Lokatos are very well off. You’ll be set for life,” he says, setting the holo-pad down on the table in front of him.

“You’re forcing me to marry someone I don’t know… let alone even love! I really don’t care how rich they are,” you say, folding your arms.

“It’s for the best. Especially if you want to maintain this new lifestyle that you’ve become accustomed to.”

“You mean the one that you forced upon us? If I were up to me I would be home right now,” you fight back.

He sighs, not looking to listen to any more of your protests.

“Look, Valsi left today to go visit his family on Naboo. After he gets some business sorted there you’re going to meet him. You’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ve hired someone to take you there, some Mandalorian. You leave tomorrow.”

You scoff and get up, retreating to your room where you go to bed again, wallowing in your own sadness until you decide to pack for the next day. Your parents call you for dinner but you decline, not wanting to see them but also too upset to eat. You go to bed that night and have a dream that this Mandalorian takes you anywhere else but Naboo. It’s a shame really. You’ve heard how beautiful Naboo is and under any other circumstances you’d be jumping at the chance to go. But when you’re going under the pretense of meeting your arranged husband and his family, you can think of a million other places you’d rather be.

You wake up the next morning and get ready for your journey, the nerves brewing in your stomach. You meet your father in the living room again without saying a word to him. He sends for a servant to collect your bag before leading you to the docking bay. You don’t say a word to him the whole way there. He makes attempts at small talk, telling you how much you’re going to love Naboo and how you’re going to have such a good time. But you can’t be bothered to entertain him.

You reach the docking bay and in front of you is a large ship; a Razor Crest your father tells you. The exit ramp opens and that’s when you see him walking towards you; a Mandalorian in full beskar, silver and shiny. He has a sort of confidence about him when he walks that commands the attention of anyone nearby.

“Mando!” your father says happily as he stops in front of the both of you, “Thanks for agreeing to do this.”

“Half the credits, the other half after the job is done, right?” he says, making no time for pleasantries. His modulated voice scratches an itch in your brain you didn’t know was there.

“O-of course,” your father stutters, pulling out a small bag from his robes.

The Mandalorian takes it and nods with a slight tip of his helmet.

“Let’s go,” he says curtly, turning and walking back towards the Razor Crest.

He seems… unpleasant. And you’re going to have to spend several days with him alone holed up in this ship. Great.

Your father goes for a hug but you rebuff him, walking to the ship without looking back. The servant follows with your bags and drops them off before leaving. The Mandalorian closes the exit ramp and retreats to the cockpit without saying a word. You follow him and sit in the passenger seat. You watch him prepare the ship for takeoff while he doesn’t say a single word to you. So offer some conversation.

“So… Do you always do stuff like this?” you ask.

“Stuff like what?” he replies, not looking at you.

“Transporting people around.”

“No. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Really? How’d you get roped into this?”

“Credits,” he says plainly.

“Hope that it was worth it…” you grumble under your breath.

He turns his seat around and the T-shaped visor practically burns a hole into you. You can’t see his face but you can feel his stone cold gaze and it sends shivers through you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You’re taken aback. Is he actually offended by your snide little comment?

“You’re bringing me to Naboo to meet my soon-to-be husband. The whole thing is a forced, arranged marriage. Did you know that?” you say defensively, folding your arms across your chest.

“No, I don’t ask questions like that. All I need to know is that I’m bringing a princess to Naboo and how much I’ll be paid.”

“I’m not a princess,” you scoff.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he says, turning to face the control panel again.

You let out an exasperated sigh and he finishes preparing the ship for takeoff. He straps himself in and asks if you’re strapped in, too.

“You buckled up, princess?”

“Yup.”

He takes off and you look at Coruscant below as you leave, pretending you’re going anywhere you want and not with some grumpy Mandalorian.

Once you’ve left the atmosphere you ask, “So how long is it going to be until we get to Naboo?”

“About seven standard days,” he says nonchalantly.

Great. Seven days of being holed up in this cramped ship with him.

He makes the jump to lightspeed and you’re enveloped in a cool blue glow.

“You can unbuckle now. I’ve set an auto pilot course for Naboo. We shouldn’t need to stop for fuel if all goes well.”

Pretty much as soon as he said the word “unbuckle” you were leaving the cockpit to go stretch your legs. You only half listened to the rest of what he’s saying. To be honest, you don’t really care for him.

You pace up and down the storage area of the Crest for what feels like forever, wondering what kinds of weapons and gadgets he has stowed away in there. You sit on some crates and mess around on your holo-pad for a while. It’s really fucking boring and Mando isn’t one for small talk.

He keeps to himself mostly, periodically checking in on you as you keep yourself entertained. He doesn’t really have an opinion on you just yet. He assumes you think he doesn’t like you but that’s just how he is with everyone; a little standoffish. He watches you as you pace the storage area and tries to ignore the way your hips sway when you walk; or the way your brows furrow when you read something on your holo-pad. You’re just so… cute to him, in your pretty dress that hugs your figure perfectly. In all honesty, he feels bad for you, too. Once he learned you were set to be in an arranged marriage his apathy towards you started shifting into something else.

Eventually it’s the end of the first day cycle and he realizes you should probably get to bed soon. He sits beside you on a crate you’re reading your holo-pad on and says gently, “You need to sleep.”

He half expected a snarky response or some form of protest from you but you just yawn and let out a soft, “Okay.”

He leads you to the cot across the room in a little cubby.

“It’s a little small but it should be alright for you,” he says.

“What about you? Where are you going to sleep?” you ask.

His chest gets tight over your concern for him.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But where are you going to sleep?” you ask, not letting it go.

“...The floor? Or maybe in one of the seats in the cockpit,” he says reluctantly.

“That’s ridiculous. Just sleep in here with me.”

His mind is spinning at the thought of sleeping on the cot with you. But he also wants to respect your personal space. You’re engaged to someone else whether it’s arranged or not.

As if you could read his mind you say, “We’re both adults here. I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t comfortable with it.”

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath.

You excuse yourself to the refresher to change into your pajamas; a soft oversized shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. He removes his armor and weapons in the meantime, leaving only his flight suit and his helmet on. You crawl into the cot with him and it’s a tight squeeze. You figure out the most comfortable position is him spooning you, his large arm draped over your side. You get a glimpse of his gloveless hand and make a mental note of his skin tone; the only indication you have of what he looks like underneath all the beskar. It’s large and calloused, most likely from years of working with his hands.

“So… Do you ever take the helmet off?” you ask.

“Only when I’m alone.”

“So if I wasn’t here right now, you could take it off,” you say, feeling guilty.

He doesn’t say anything. If he answers with a yes you’re just going to feel bad. And it isn’t your fault. He chose to follow the creed.

“I should sleep somewhere else. Just so you can take that thing off and have a chance to really breathe,” you say, starting to get up.

His arm around you tightens. He doesn’t want you to leave. It’s nice having someone else to lay with; to sleep with, regardless of the fact you’re engaged to someone else.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he says softly, “I’m used to it.”

“...Are you sure?”

“Yes, mesh’la. Go to sleep.”

Mesh’la? What does that mean? You feel sleep overtaking you so you decide to ask in the morning. You drift off to sleep with the sounds of his modulated breathing soothing you.

He wakes up before you and admires how peaceful you look, eyes closed and lashes fanned out against your face. He could stay there for a while, taking in all of your beauty but he needs to get up and check on the autopilot. He gets out of the cot; careful to not disturb you. He replaces his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. He checks to make sure the Crest is still on course and tries to ignore the excitement brewing in his stomach.

You wake up in the morning and he’s gone. You’re shocked for a moment but then you remember he’s probably just in the cockpit. You get up and stretch before going to meet him in the cockpit. The blue light whizzing by around you makes it feel like it’s not morning; like no time has passed. You sit in one of the passenger seats, not saying a word to him.

“How did you sleep?” he asks softly.

“Good… How did you sleep?”

“Good,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay well… I think I’m gonna use the refresher?” you say, more so in an asking tone.

“Go right ahead,” he says, turning his seat to face you.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in his helmet and notice your bedhead. Feeling embarrassed you retreat to the refresher and spend a while in there, letting the warm water soothe you. You change into a new dress when you’re done, this one lower cut than the one from yesterday. You step out of the refresher and back into the storage area, almost bumping right into him.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize.

But he doesn’t say a word, admiring your beauty once again; fresh faced with wet hair… and of course the hint of cleavage peeking out from your dress.

Why isn’t he saying anything? you wonder, Did I do something to upset him?

“Y-you should eat,” he says, tripping on his words ever so slightly.

“Okay…You should, too.”

“Okay,” he says, turning to grab some rations for both of you.

“We just have to eat separately,” he says.

“Of course! Where do you want me?”

Against me, under me, he thinks to himself.

“You stay out here. I’ll go on the cot and shut the door,” he says.

You nod and he hands you your ration before going into the cubby and closing the door. You sit on the floor and lean back against it, wanting to feel close to him for some strange reason… And then you realize your own apathy towards him is melting away and changing into something else, too. But you can’t put your finger on what.

He sits on his cot and removes his helmet. You can hear the hiss of the modulator through the door and your mind races with ideas of what he looks like.

“I’m against the door… I just wanted it to feel like we were eating together.”

His heart flutters. “That’s okay, mesh’la,” he says, using the nickname subconsciously.

“No more princess, huh?” you tease, but also listen carefully to his helmetless, unmodulated voice.

He almost chokes on his food at your boldness. “Well uh, you said you weren’t a princess…”

“That’s right. I’m not. But what does mesh’la mean?”

He has two options. He could tell you the truth… or he could lie. What are the chances of you meeting another Mandalorian anyway? But he doesn’t want to lie to you of all people. You deserve someone who’s honest and good to you.

“It’s… Mando’a for beautiful,” he says, wincing at your response. At least, you can’t see how flustered he’s getting.

“Oh… thank you, Mando,” you respond. That’s the first time you’ve used any sort of nickname to address him. And he takes note of that.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

“No! Not at all. You’re very sweet.”

He relaxes a bit and you two talk while you eat, getting to know each other a bit more. You could sit and listen to his unmodulated voice tell you stories for hours. But eventually you’re both done eating and you hear him get up. You stand up, too and hear the hiss of the modulator once again. He opens the door and you both stare at each other for a moment, both surprised at your connection and concern for one another. He goes back up to the cockpit and sits in the pilot seat. You grab your holo-pad and follow him, sitting in one of the passenger seats in silence. Except this time, it’s a comfortable silence. And that was the start of Mando’s mysterious, protective nature breaking down the walls you put up around you.

You fall into a routine during the rest of your traveling days. You sit in the cockpit together in comfortable silence. You sleep pressed up against each other. Your touch and gaze begin to linger. You grow more and more comfortable with each other; so comfortable that you almost forget you’re on your way to meet your fiancé and his family.

But at night when you’re sleeping in Mando’s arms you don’t have a care in the world. You’ve grown so accustomed to sleeping with him that you know you’ll miss this when it’s over. It’s the same position every night, your back flush against his chest and his arm around your waist. And also… his hard length pressed against your butt and lower back. He wasn’t hard the first night most likely because he was so nervous. But as you both grew more comfortable you noticed the hardness more and more. You’ve never said anything about it. You didn’t want to embarrass him.

But now it's your last night together. You’ll arrive on Naboo in the morning and your time together will be over. And you’ve come to the conclusion that you want Mando. Even if you won’t have him again after tonight. So when his cock goes hard against your back you push your butt into him, taking him by surprise.

“...What are you doing, mesh’la?”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” you ask suggestively.

“But you’re engaged, mesh’la,” he says quietly, defeated even.

“But I don’t want him, Mando. I don’t even know him. I was forced into this blindly. And if I have to go be with him tomorrow… I want one last good time; one last good night with you.”

“Okay, mesh’la. Anything for you.”

And with his approval you’re pushing your butt back into him as his bare hand grabs your hip. He pulls into you, cock pressing hard against you as you ache for more touch. You rest your back on the cot and he takes the opportunity to hover over you. His hand trails up your thigh and hooks onto the waistband on your shorts. He pulls them off in one swift motion before spreading your thighs apart. His large fingers tease your entrance which was getting wetter by the second. He swept his fingers up your core, marveling how ready you were for him. He brings his thumb to your clit before moving the helmet against your face so could whisper in your ear.

“I bet you wanted this every night, didn’t you mesh’la?”

You whimper in response, the featherlight touch of his fingers driving you insane.

“Please. I need more.”

“What’s that?” he teases, “Are you begging for me, cyar’ika?”

You’re too horny and frustrated to retain any sort of pride now so you nod, begging even more.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Please, Mando, I need more.”

He plunges his index finger into you without warning, working your walls as your moans fill the small space.

“Look at you, cyar’ika. Already a mess just from one finger,” he purrs.

“What does that one mean? you ask.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers against your ear just as he slips in another finger eliciting a loud moan from you.

He curls them upwards and brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing small, fast circles around it as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. You feel your muscles tense up in anticipation of relief and you know you’re close to finishing.

“I’m close, Mando,” you whine.

“Din,” he says.

“Hmm?” you ask, too far gone to form a complete question.

“My name is Din, Din Djarin. Call me by my name when you cum, cyar’ika.”

All you can do is whimper in response. But that isn’t good enough for him. He stops swirling his thumb around your clit and slows his fingers inside of you.

“What was that, cyar’ika?” he teases, moving his fingers painstakingly slow.

“Y-yes, Din,” you say in between labored breaths.

“Good girl,” he praises before picking up the pace again.

Your hands grip the edges of the cot for purchase as you roll your hips against him, desperate for his complete touch. He rests on the back of his heels and brings his hand to your abdomen, right above where his fingers are inside you and where your g-spot is. He pushes his fingers against it inside you and presses down on your abdomen ever so gently, pleasuring your g-spot internally and externally. Between the three different spots of stimulation you’re at the brink of orgasm again. And this time he lets you have it, making a mess beneath you on the cot and soaking his hand down to his wrist.

“Din, I’m coming,” you moan, arching your back up against him.

“That’s right, cyar’ika. Cum on my fingers. Just like that,” he says, bringing his helmet by your ear once more.

Your cunt convulses around his fingers in rhythmic waves before eventually stopping. He watches you writhe in pleasure and feels a sense of pride knowing he got you to cum hard like that. He waits until you’re finished before pulling them out of you; you whine at the sudden absence.

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. I’m gonna take care of you,” he says before leaning back and pulling his cock out of his flight suit.

He slicks his cock with your release and you spread your legs wider to accommodate how broad he is. He grabs your hand as he pushes into you. You gasp at his length, filling you completely. He buries his cock into you down to the hilt and showers you with praise.

“You take my cock so good, cyar’ika,” he says as he stretches your walls.

His other hand moves to your tit, thumbing around your nipple and worrying into a stiff peak. It pulls a deep moan from prompting him to explore your body and learn just what makes you melt. His eyes are locked with yours, even though you can’t see his. He tears away his gaze for a moment to look down at your cunt and the way it grips his cock moving in and out of you. He curses at the sight, mesmerized by it before fucking you relentlessly. You feel your core tense up again before washing you over with the biggest wave of relief. You know he’s at the edge, too. He goes to pull out but you don’t want him to, not ready for the fullness you’re feeling to go away.

“I have an implant,” you say quickly.

And with that he drives his hips into you one last time before releasing his load into you, coating your insides. He cums with a loud groan, spilling out of the helmet. He lays down, keeping you inside him and pulls you against his chest.

“You’re amazing, cyar’ika,” he purrs, hand trailing up and down your figure.

You sigh happily in response. He goes to pull out but you stop him, telling him you want to fall asleep like this. He relaxes and settles against you, wrapping your arm around your waist.

“Thank you for that, Din,” you whisper.

“Anything for you, cyar’ika.” he whispers back as sleep overtakes you both.

You wake up to the sensation of his cock hardening inside you. You let out an involuntary moan and move your ass against him. He grinds back into you before waking up fully, hand gripping your waist tightly. You move back and forth with each other in a perfect rhythm, your ass colliding with his groin, plunging his cock into you as deep as it can go. He reaches forward and parts your legs slightly so he can rub your clit. You moan and lean back against his strong chest while he fucks you; the dual sensation taking you to the edge quickly. You cum simultaneously, pulling every last drop out of him as your cunt flutters around his cock. You’re feeling fuller than ever, between his length and having taken two of his loads. You’re going to miss this feeling so much. You’ve only had sex twice now and you’re already missing the feeling of him inside you.

“You’re so dirty, cyar’ika,” he muses, hands roaming your body again, “Going to another man, full of my cum.”

“And wishing it was you,” you whine.

“I know,” he whispers, “At least I got to experience this with you.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, the realization of today settling in.

“I guess I should go get ready,” you sigh.

He doesn’t say anything but you can feel him exhale behind you. You lift yourself up out of the cot and strip your pajamas. He sits up on the cot and admires your naked form in front of him, fearing it’s the last time he’ll ever see it. He wishes he could just rip off the helmet and take an unobstructed mental image but he knows he can’t. You go get dressed for the day, feeling so angry and defeated about your situation that you don’t bother to shower and wash him off of you. If you’re going to walk into an arranged marriage you’re going to do it encapsulated in the scent of your lover and filled with his cum.

Din reattaches his armor and his weapons before retreating to the cockpit. You gather your things and meet him there, sitting in the passenger seat silently. The gloom of the situation permeated the space and both of you were feeling it. This time the silence is sad and lonely instead of comfortable like it had been for the past several days.

Naboo comes into view and you gasp at the lush planet. Why does this beautiful place have to hold such terrible implications? Din watches the way your face lights up as you admire the scenery. He received coordinates where to land prior to leaving and heads there. One the Crest is stationary and he gets up to help you with his bags, pulling you into one final hug before lowering the exit ramp.

“Take care, ner alor’ika.”

“Hmm, what does that one mean?” you ask against his chest plate.

“My princess,” he says softly, moving his hand to the small of your back.

He pulls away and lowers the exit ramp. You see the unfortunately familiar face of Valsi and an older lady who can only assume is his mother. You walk down the exit ramp with Din as he carries your bags.

Valsi’s mom greets you with a cheery hello. She starts rambling on about how excited is to show you around. Din sets your bags down on the ground and Valsi calls for a servant to collect them before taking your arm. They lead you away and you look over your shoulder to get one final glimpse at him before he turns and walks to the crest, the exit ramp closing behind him. A pit forms in your stomach as you hear his engines power up.

Valsi’s grip on your arm is tight and constricting as his mother shows you around. It really is a beautiful place; high vaulted ceilings decorated with elaborate paintings supported by strong columns. But you can’t admire the place without Valsi making a snide comment.

“You won’t find places like this on Savareen,” he says, a dark smirk painting his face.

“Valsi! Don’t be rude!” his mother scolds. At least she’s more polite than him.

“Well, it’s true…” he says under his breath.

His mother shakes her head and rolls her eyes before leading you outside. The garden is vibrant, green and full of life. Species of flowers you’ve never seen before lined up in neat rows with various sculptures arranged amongst them. Across the way there’s a shining, bright blue lake and in the distance mountains loom above casting their mystified reflection on the water’s surface. Minus the mountains, the lake reminds you of the oceans on Savareen and your heart aches.

His mother goes to say something but she’s cut off by a blinding silver reflection walking across the garden. Your stomach lurches at the sight; Din Djarin walking towards you in a field of flowers. A giddy smile breaks out onto your face and you don’t care about Valsi or his mother’s reaction.

“You came back,” you say as he reaches you, trying to mask your excitement.

“I’ve been hired by your father to look after you whenever Valsi is busy… up until the wedding,” he says.

“That’s ridiculous. We have plenty of guards here that can look after her,” Valsi retorts, narrowing his eyes.

“Her father’s orders,” Din shrugs.

“Ugh, whatever.”

A servant comes out to the garden and motions for Valsi to come over to him.

“I have meetings I need to attend. See you for dinner tonight,” he says, squeezing your hand.

You pull back in disgust and he leaves to follow the servant inside.

“Feel free to explore on your own,” his mother says, “When you’re ready to be shown to your room, ask a servant and one of them will show you.”

“Thank you,” you smile. His mother really does seem like a nice woman. It’s a shame her son turned out the way he did.

It’s just you and Din alone in the garden, standing in front of each other. You start walking towards the water and he follows you, admiring how the sun hits your face and how your hair catches the wind. You’re relieved to be with him again even if it’s only for a short time. You stop at the railing and rest your hands on it, leaning forward and looking at the rolling waves of the lake. The breeze blows your hair back and fills you senses with the scent of the flora around you. You look over at Din and wonder what it’s like for him under there. Does he ever miss the feeling of the sun on his face or the wind in his hair? Does he even have hair? You have no idea what he looks like. Can he smell things underneath the helmet?

“What are you thinking about, mesh’la?”

“What you look like… and if you can smell things through the helmet.”

His gloved hand on the railing slides towards yours, resting it on top. “Of course, I can smell, cyar’ika. I would fall asleep with you pressed up against me, smelling your sweet scent every night.”

Maker, you want him so bad right now. You inch closer towards him, barely keeping any space between you two.

“Cyar’ika…” he says nervously, “What if someone sees?”

“I don’t care,” you groan, resting your head against his chest plate, facing the water. You could stay like this forever, in his arms and surrounded by nature.

But eventually you start to think that people might worry if you’re gone for a long time with him so you retreat back inside. You ask a servant to show you to your room. He leads you down a long hallway and stops at one of the doors. The room is beautiful, just like the rest of the mansion. You have a balcony that looks right out to the lake. Your bags are beside your bed and you turn to ask the servant about Din.

“What about him?”

“Uh, Master Valsi never told me of any arrangements for him.”

“Well he is my bodyguard. I would like him to have a room not too far from me.”

“Very well, miss. I’ll get started on that. Dinner is in about an hour.”

“Thank you,” you smile. He closes the door behind him, leaving you and Din alone. He closes the gap between you and snakes his arm around to the small of your back.

“Do you know how badly I want to take you right here, cyar’ika?” he whispers.

“I mean… we have an hour,” you say suggestively.

That’s all the clearance he needs. He pushes you down on the bed gently and pulls up the skirt of your dress to reveal no underwear.

“No underwear, cyar’ika? Iba’ etyc alor’ika.” What a dirty little princess.

You moan at his words and spread your legs open for him, aching for his touch. He wastes no time bringing his fingers to your entrance and stroking it lightly, in awe of how wet you are already.

“How bad do you want it, cyar’ika?”

“So bad, Din. Please I can’t wait any longer,” you whine.

He chuckles at your neediness and slides a finger in, curling it upwards against your walls. Barely giving you time to adjust, he pushes another in, anxious to get you cumming around his fingers. He brings his thumb to your clit and in no time he pulls an orgasm from you. You arch your hips up against him as your cunt convulses around him. He pulls his fingers from you after you’ve ridden out your high and releases his cock that was pitching a tent in his flight suit. He slicks his length with your juices and pushes into your cunt immediately, desperate for the warm, familiar feeling again. This is the first time you’ve had him during the day. And the light from the window and balcony across the room bathes him in the warm sunny glow. You’re mesmerized by the sight of him above you, inside you and in his full armor. It’s new for him, too. Not only are you also bathed in the afternoon light but you’re also in a bigger bed this time. And it allows you to sprawl out so beautifully underneath him. He leans down, effectively folding you in half and drives his hips into you harder. With this new angle you’re at the brink of orgasm and after one last forceful thrust you’re coming undone around him. Your muscles contract and release in a symphony, cunt fluttering around his cock pulling his own orgasm from him. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he slows his pace before pulling out of you carefully. He lays down on the bed and pulls you into him, the cold beskar a nice contrast to your warm, sweaty face. After a while of catching your breath he says, “You should probably go get ready for dinner, cyar’ika.”

“I know,” you sigh.

He rises and puts his cock away, grabbing your hand and helping you up from the plush bed. You undress and get ready to step in the refresher, making it even harder for you to leave him.

“I’m going to go retrieve some stuff from the Crest, cyar’ika,” he sighs.

“Okay,” you say softly, “See you after dinner.”

He leaves and closes the door behind him. You get in the refresher and clean yourself up, already missing him. You change into one of the dresses you packed, off the shoulder and a silky blue color before a servant comes to pick you up for dinner. He leads you to a large dining room, again with large vaulted ceilings. The table is so big and you’re sitting so far apart it’s barely like eating together. You’re sitting across from Valsi and his mother is at one end of the table.

“You’ll have to forgive Valsi’s father. He got caught up with some business on Coruscant but he’ll be here soon,” she says.

You nod and eat together in silence before asking, “What about-”

But Valsi cuts you off, “The Mandalorian? The servants will bring him his own food to his room.”

You think about Din eating alone in his room and feel sad for him, wanting nothing more than to sit against the door and talk with him while you share a meal together. Valsi raises his eyebrow at your concern for him but drops it, going back to eating his food in silence. Eventually the three of you are finished and you excuse yourself to your room.

“Thank you so much for the tour and thank you for having me in your home,” you say to his mom, looking past Valsi.

“Of course, dear. Have a good night.”

And with that you rise from your chair and walk back to your room, anxious to see Din again. You spot a servant in the entryway of the house and ask, “Where is the Mandalorian’s room?” careful not to use his name.

“The same hallway as you, miss. But all the way at the end.”

You tell him thanks and start walking a little faster, climbing up the staircase and heading towards the hallway. You reach the end and knock on his door, but you get no response. You wait a little before knocking again… but nothing. Maybe he’s already asleep? Maybe he’s still in the Crest? You wait for a sign of his presence before retreating to your room, feeling a little defeated. You get ready for bed and change into your pajamas, slipping into the soft bed and wishing Din was here with you.

You drift off to sleep but don’t stay asleep for long because you feel someone on the other side of the room. You hear the clink of metal and the sheets rustle as the person sneaks into bed with you. You turn over to see Din getting into bed with you silently.

“Din! What if someone comes in?”

“I won’t stay the whole night… I just couldn’t sleep without you.”

You feel a sense of relief, for you too have grown used to the feeling of him against you every night.

“Okay,” you say softly, settling yourself in the crook of his neck, “Goodnight, Din.”

“Goodnight, cyar’ika.”

You wake up early in the morning with Din still at your side. He’s still sleeping so you pull yourself away (even though it’s hard) to watch the sunrise over the mountains and the lake. The sun peeks over the mountaintops cloaking everything in a warm, amber glow. You lean over the railing of the balcony, resting your elbows on it and placing your head in your hands, admiring the stillness of it all. No one telling you where to go, no Valsi dragging you by the arm, no father that doesn’t listen to you. Just you and your lover on a peaceful morning after just spending the night together. You hear Din get up and walk behind you, hooking his hands on your hips. It’s early enough that you don’t care about anyone seeing you together. You’re probably the only ones awake. He slides your sleep shorts down and you stand on your tiptoes for him. You feel the leather of his gloves trail up and your entrance before he pulls away to take them off. You hear the them hit the floor and he replaces his hand, bare this time. His fingers tease your core, playing with you until you whine for him, getting sick of the teasing. You stand on your tiptoes even higher, arching your ass against his groin.

“Right here, cyar’ika? What if someone sees?”

“No one will… and if someone does, oh well,” you sigh.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckles before plunging a finger into you.

You moan at the sensation and arch your back more, desperate for more of his touch. He slips another finger in and works your walls, preparing you for his cock. Before you could cum he pulls them out of you, whining at the empty feeling. But before you could complain anymore you feel his cock push into you slowly. You sigh at the feeling of being full once again. He grips your hips and pulls you into him, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. Your soft and hushed moans surround you as you do your best to keep quiet. With one last slam of his hips you’re coming around him, gripping his cock like a vice. He erupts his load into you, filling you with the familiar feeling of his cum soaking your cunt once again. He pulls out of you and brings you up into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The cold feeling of his chest plate presses against your back, slick with sweat from this morning’s activities. You stay there for a moment, holding each other and watching the rest of the sunrise.

“Ni ka'tayli gar darasuum,” he says softly.

“Hmm?” you ask, still feeling blissed out.

“I love you, alor’ika. And I know that’s unfair to you because you’re engaged to someone else but… I can’t help how I feel.”

You turn and face him, gazing up into his visor and shocked that you just got a confession of love from him. But deep down… you feel the same way. And it hurts so bad because you know in a month you’ll be married to someone else.

“I love you, too, Din,” you say.

He pulls you into him and strokes your back gently. You close your eyes and relax but you’re interrupted when you hear a knock on the door.

“Breakfast is in thirty minutes, miss,” you hear a servant say.

“Kriff, they’re probably going to your room next,” you say, pulling away and looking up at Din.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I can just say I was sleeping before when they bring my food.”

You sigh and nod before going to get ready, changing into another dress. Din hugs you from behind one last time before returning to his room. You leave and walk to the dining room for breakfast to find Valsi and his mom sitting, talking about wedding preparations.

“Well, Valsi,” his mom sighs, “You’re already giving barely enough time to plan this wedding and now you want to move it up?”

“Mhm. As soon as possible. Next week.”

She sighs again, “Fine, let me go alert the help of my son’s rash behavior.”

She gets up and leaves. You look at Valsi with a confused expression on your face.

“We’re moving up the wedding?”

“Mhm,” he says, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He looks down at you with a truly sinister look in his eye.

“One of the servants alerted me of your little activity with the Mandalorian this morning. Can’t say I’m surprised. You two can’t keep your hands off each other.”

Your mouth falls open and a pit forms in your stomach.

He continues speaking and grabs your chin, “So you can mess around with your little Mandalorian play thing for now. But once we’re married, you’re mine. Do I make myself clear?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Don’t really want this getting out to the public, do you? Think of your father’s reputation once everyone finds out you’re cheating on another senator’s son with a Mandalorian of all people.”

He releases his grip on your chin. “Alright, go run to him and tell him the news. But later today you’re looking for a wedding dress,” he sighs, returning to his chair.

You push out your chair and leave the dining room at once, tears forming in your eyes. You don’t stop until you reach Din’s room, knocking on the door and calling for him. You hear the hiss of the modulator through the door; he must’ve been eating. He opens the door and you collapse into him, letting the tears flow.

“What happened, cyar’ika?” he says, rubbing your back.

“Someone found out about us and told Valsi… he moved up the wedding to next week,” you sob.

You feel him tense up against you. “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I wish there was something I could do.”

“Take me away from here,” you say softly.

“I… can’t. I’m sorry, cyar’ika. They’re members of the Senate. They’ll have everyone in the galaxy after us.”

You sob even harder, feeling completely hopeless. Not even Din can save you from this. You pull away, just wanting to wallow in your sadness alone.

“I think… I need to be alone.”

“Cyar’ika-”

But you don’t listen. You turn on your heel and walk back to your room, collapsing into bed and letting your tears overtake you. You drift off to sleep but your nap is interrupted by a servant waking you up, telling you it’s time to go pick out your dress.

You leave with the servant and Din, who says nothing to you. They take you into the city and drop you off at a dress shop with enough credits. They wait for you out front while you make your selections. You couldn’t care less about your wedding dress and what it looks like since the marriage is a sham anyway. You pick the first one you see, pay and leave. You meet Din and the servant outside, ready to be done with being in public so you can go back to your room and wallow in sadness. You return back to the mansion and make a beeline for your room, tossing your dress on the dresser before falling into bed. You cry yourself to sleep and miss dinner, waking up the next morning with puffy eyes and an upset stomach.

The next several days feel monotonous, an endless cycle of pretending to care about wedding preparations and crying in your room. Valsi’s father and your family arrive on Naboo a few days before the wedding. Surprisingly, your parents invite the few friends you had on Savareen before you moved away; the best thing to happen to you in days. You’re happy to see them again but you wish it was under different circumstances. Din still hangs around, checking in on you in your room occasionally but you still hold some animosity for him for not being willing to get you out of here.

It’s the night before the wedding and you hear a soft knock on your door. You open to see Din and despite your disdain for him you let him in. He sits on the bed gingerly, seeming nervous. You fold your arms, getting ready to speak first. But surprisingly he does.

“I just wanted to see you one last time.”

You sigh. In all honesty you wanted this, too.

“Me, too,” you admit, sitting down next to him and looking down at your hands.

He reaches over and palms your thigh. You pull off your dress before laying down on the bed and opening your legs for him. The dim glow on the lamps reflects off his beskar as he moves to your underwear, hooking the fabric with his fingers and pulling it off. He brings his finger to your cunt, teasing you lightly, taking his time with you on your final night together. You whine at his delicate touch, aching for more. He pulls off his gloves and feels just how wet you are for him, wanting to hear you beg for him again.

“Please, Din. I need you,” you moan.

On command he slides his finger in, pumping it and out of you slowly. “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

It’s been days since you last had him and you missed him so much. You writhe under his touch; just from one finger. He marvels at your body, the plush skin of your thighs and how you arch your back in pleasure. Aching for more he pushes another finger in and brings his thumb to your clit. He rubs small, quick circles around it and curls his fingers, pulling an orgasm from you in no time. You soak his hand down to his wrist as your cunt grips his fingers. He waits until you’re done riding out your high before removing them from you and pulling his cock out of his flight suit. He lubricates his length with your release and aligns himself with your entrance, taking your hand one last time as he enters you slowly. You gasp at the sensation of him filling you up completely, burying his cock into you balls deep and grazing your cervix. His hands move to your waist pulling you into him as he thrusts into you. Your moans fill the bedroom and you couldn’t care less about anyone hearing you right now. He looks down at you in complete adoration as you take him. Din feels his cock tense up and his balls tighten. He’s at the brink of orgasm but he wants you to cum with him. He slams his hips into you harder and faster, sending you over the edge. Your cunt flutters around, pulling every last drop of cum from him as he fucks you through your release. He slows and pulls out of you, laying on the bed next to you. You place yourself in the crook of his neck one last time, inhaling his scent and trying to memorize every last detail about him before you never see him again.

“Yooba solus mesh’la,” he whispers.

You sigh against him, never wanting this moment to end. But it’s getting late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Reluctantly, you pull away from him and he gets up. You lead him to the door and give him one final hug.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, alor’ika,” he whispers against your hair.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

After one final look at each other he leaves, returning to back his room. You put on your pajamas and crawl into bed, silently crying before you fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning with puffy eyes and an ache in your heart. Din’s surely gone by now. What reason would he have to stick around for the wedding?

Servants knock on the door and tell you they’re here to help you get ready. You get up to let them in and they begin to work on your hair and makeup. You put on your dress and look in the mirror. You look beautiful but you don’t feel beautiful; getting ready to marry a man you don’t love while you’re full with the seed of another.

The servants escort you down the stairs and you see your parents. They tell you how beautiful you look and how happy they are for you. You give them a faux smile, trying to fake any ounce of happiness you can muster.

Soon, it’s time for the ceremony and you look out into the garden from the house at all the guests. It has to be a large wedding of course, filled with some of the most important people in the New Republic. You see Valsi at the end of the aisle, looking annoyed like he’s just waiting for this to be over. You walk down the aisle with your father and start to feel sick to your stomach at all of the eyes on you. He hands you off to Valsi who takes your hand, a little too tight. The officiant begins reading the wedding passage and your ears start ringing. You don’t even listen to what he and Valsi are saying, missing your cues to speak several times. You can sense Valsi getting annoyed with you, his brow furrowing at you as you trip up on your vows again. Before you can finish you hear a loud, “Stop!”

You rip your gaze from Valsi to see Din standing in the aisle. He doesn’t even have to continue calling for you. You immediately run towards him and into his arms, ignoring the protests of Valsi and your family and the gasps from the guests. You hear Valsi call for the guards and Din draws his blaster. He places one hand on the small of your back and begins firing once the guards do.

“Run, cyar’ika! To the docking yard!”

You turn and bolt. You hear Valsi shout, “Don’t let her get away!”

Din follows you, shooting his blaster at anyone chasing after you. Between the adrenaline rush of escaping and being fired at you push yourself harder, desperate to get away. You reach the docking yard and run straight to the Razor Crest. Din opens the exit ramp and ushers you inside, firing his blaster a few more times at the guards before following you inside. He closes the ramp behind him and rushes up the ladder and into the pilot seat, preparing the Crest for takeoff hastily. Not before long you’re taking off, staring at the beautiful planet beneath you but feeling so grateful to be leaving. Once you left the atmosphere Din jumps to lightspeed. He turns to you and grabs your hands.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt, cyar’ika?”

You shake your head no, still panting from the chase and replaying it in your head.

“How are we going to do this, Din? They’re going to send everyone after us.”

“Don’t worry. I have a plan. We’re going to Nevarro where I have some people who’ve agreed to hide us. But there’s one thing… you have to become my riduur.”

“Your what?”

“My wife; my spouse.”

Without hesitation you tell him yes and he sighs in relief, worried that you didn’t want to escape one marriage by entering a new one. He lets go of your hands and brings them to the edge of his helmet. You immediately throw your hands over your eyes and ask, “What are you doing?!”

“Don’t you want to see the face of the man you’re marrying, cyar’ika?”

“...I can do that?”

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he chuckles but his heart swells at the idea of you agreeing to marry him without seeing his face; at your devotion to him.

He pulls off the helmet and you hear the hiss of the modulator. You slowly remove your hands from your face and see Din, staring back at you. Brown, curly hair, a little matted from the helmet, a strong, prominent nose, two frown lines perched between his eyebrows, slightly patchy facial hair, and warm brown eyes scanning your face for any sign of approval. He’s beautiful; more beautiful than you ever could’ve imagined.

You crash your lips against his and entangle your hands in his hair, reveling in the feeling of his bare face pressed against yours. You break the kiss and rest your forehead against his.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to thank me, cyar’ika. I’d do anything for you… I love you.”

“I love you, too, Din,” you say, kissing him again.

He rests his hand on the back of your neck, continuing the kiss until he pulls away to check the coordinates on the control panel. You can’t tear your eyes away from him, watching him in the blue glow from hyperspace. He turns his face towards you again and smiles, the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. That’s your man.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction

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reztoru · 2 years ago

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─── Need You

彡 Gojo takes your teasing a little personally and decides to remind you that you really do need him after all.

tw / cw : no thoughts only smut ,, edging, fingering, one clit slap, a little mutual masturbation, a lil dacryphilia ? ,, pet names (baby, princess) ,, lmk if i missed anything

pairing : Gojo x afab! reader

no detailed physical descriptions of reader aside from them having a kitty

a/n : My laptop broke so it’s been a little tricky to write so bear with me. I also didn’t proofread this so shhshhh

w/c : 1k

Minors dni - 18+

Looking back on it now, maybe poking at Satoru today wasn’t a good idea — he was already being grumpy. All you did was make a few jokes about how you don’t need a man; and how you especially didn’t need one to make you cum. How were you supposed to know he was going to take your teasing as a challenge?

Which is how you ended up in this situation. Though you couldn’t remember when your clothes came off, or even how the events up to this point transpired. And every curl of Satoru’s fingers is no help. It only brought you closer to your peak, but of course, he wouldn’t let you have your way that easily.

“What’s that, baby?” He grinned as he slowed his pace. His digits rolled into you in such a languid manner, it made forming any sentences hard.

“Satoru…” you whine, “please.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop or keep moving. All you did was paw at him and attempt to focus on him. But your mind was in shambles, and it seemed impossible to even decide what to zero in on. Satoru consumed your entire body.

“What were you saying?” He leans down to you, gripping your face in his hand. “You don’t need a man, right? Go on then. Get yourself off.”

He laid a small pat on your cheek as he let his digits slide out of you, leaning back to grip his cock; giving it a few strokes. The view alone has your eyes rolling and your thighs clenching together, crying out for him to ‘please, give you more’.

Lascivious fingers make their way to your bud, rubbing circles on it with every stroke you see from Satoru. Mesmerized by the sight of him. The way his light locks clung to the sweat on his forehead, and how his eyes looked down on you. How his muscles seemed to tense with each movement he made. Oh, and his dick is truly something to drool over, and the smug bastard knew.

But these little menstruations weren’t enough for you; you needed more. So, your hand moved down to your hole, sliding in with ease. Trying your hardest to put on a show for Satoru — hoping he’d take pity on you. But your digits aren’t big enough to prod at that spongy spot inside you, and it made you become a bewildered wreck. Of course, they couldn’t reach it the way Satoru managed to — another thing that he knew.

And as he watched, he only grinned wider. His blue orbs cascaded at you. He wished he could save this image of you and tuck it in the back of his mind. With you so fucked out — by his fingers alone. Drool coming out of the sides of your mouth, tears staining your cheeks. Oh, how your legs continue to twitch, and how your hole keeps clamping around nothing; an attempt to entice him in.

But he’s the strongest for a reason, and it probably has to do with his need to be the best. And you being in front of him looking like an absolute mess gave him a power trip he definitely did not need.

“What is it, huh? You want me to fuck you?” He starts, “Come on, princess, use your words.” he licks his lips, offering your clit a slap, “you were running your mouth earlier.”

You only moaned, stuttering out, ‘’please, 'toru!”

His fingers maneuvered into your heat, and you could hear how wet you were. It’s embarrassing. You pull your legs up to your chest to try ground yourself, your nails digging into the skin. You can’t suppress the flood of moans that pour out.

And it was futile trying to remember how many times he had denied your orgasm. What you knew, though, was that whatever sorcery Satoru is using is working. It was addictive and brought you so close to the edge, time and time again. Yet, your mean boyfriend never let you have your fervent release.

His digits curling inside you made you sob, “S'toru!”

To which he let out a boisterous laugh, "Yeah, keep saying my name like that.”

It would be an understatement to say he was enjoying this, taking all his frustrations out on your poor pussy. He gives your thigh a firm slap, feeling the way you clench around him. And when he slides his fingers out of you; you almost wail.

You watch between tears as he brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean with a moan. And he holds your gaze while he moves to loom over you. Having his tongue poke out to lick up your salty streams.

“Why you cryin’, baby?” he coos with faux sympathy, “You wanna cum?”

You nod your head, your vocabulary dumbed down to Satoru’s favourite words, “yes, please.”

He instructs you to get on your hands and knees, which you hastily fall into. It gave him the perfect view of your hole, watching as your slick drizzles out. His thumb rubbed teasing circles on your clit while giving himself a few more strokes before he lined himself up at your entrance, allowing his cock to sink into you with little effort — and warning.

You cry out, gripping the bed sheets, because of course no matter how many times you’ve done this, you can never seem to fully prepare yourself for his length. And Satoru is unphased by how your walls grip so tightly around him, in fact it seems to just edge him on even more.

His hands tighten, and the hold he has on your hips keeps you right where he wants you, with no room for you to crawl away. The sound of skin colliding echoed throughout your bedroom, paired with his grunts from behind; it made your eyes roll. Not a single thought enters your head as he thrusts into you.

Over and over, he plunged into the spot that needed him most. And already being so worked up from his teasing, you couldn’t help how the coil in your stomach tightened so quickly. Everything felt so good.

“’toru, ‘toru! please, please.”

“Please, what?”

You whimper out a barely eligible, “let me cum.“

Unfortunately for you, Satoru thinks you look best like this. Drunk on him, with nothing but moans and his name coming out of your mouth; your face pressed so prettily into the pillows. Yeah, you look perfect like this, and he thinks he’ll bask in this side of you a little longer.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

#𓂃 ⋆｡°﹆ ⁞ spirit writes #𓂃 ₊‧⁺˖⋆ deep blue #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader smut

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iamthecomet · 1 year ago

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Kinktober - Day 24 - Forced Fem

Watersports later. But FIRST: 900ish words of Aeon/Rain forced fem. Aeon makes such a pretty girl.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Rain purrs. He nuzzles his face into the side of Aeon’s neck. Hands running down Aeon’s sides and the curve in his waist to rest at his hips over the silky fabric of the slip dress.

Rain can’t stop staring. Looking over Aeon’s form in the mirror in front of him as he pets at Aeon’s hips. Thumbs dragging over prominent hip bones, visible through the dress. It’s pale blue, the same color as Cumulus’ eyes apparently–at least that’s what Aeon said when he showed up in it. It’s Aurora’s, given with permission not to stain it.

Rain is definitely going to owe Aurora a dress. When Aurora wears it, it sits at mid thigh–on Aeon it’s a little higher. Helped along by the way his cock tents the fabric in front. Rain doesn’t think he’s wearing underwear, but he doesn’t know for sure. Has been trying to puzzle it out for the last fifteen minutes.

Craning his neck to try to see when Aeon was knelt in front of him, back the mirror, dress riding up over the curve of his ass. Focused entirely on the small slivers of skin he could see as Aeon sucked on the head of his cock. Eyes drawn to the reflection of Aeon’s feet resting unders his ass. Clad in dainty white socks.

He’d almost cum like that–embarrassingly fast. The wet heat of Aeon’s mouth paired with the visual almost ruined him. Rain still not sure he’s going to last long enough to get inside Aeon. Rain’s pressed tight against Aeon’s back. Rutting his leaking cock against the small of Aeon’s back. Smearing pre-cum over the pretty fabric. Aurora will kill him. Right now, he doesn’t care. Can’t. He’s too focused on the way the silk drapes over Aeon’s skin. The matching choker fastened tight around his neck. The little heart charm dangling from it. Rain itches to say it again. Pretty. It’s the only thing he can think

The eyeshadow matches too. Powder blue. Rain wasn’t sure what to expect when Aurora promised she’d get Aeon ready for him–it wasn’t this. Pale pink lipstick, soft blush high on Aeon’s sharp cheekbones. The dark eyeliner makes him look doe-eyed. Innocent. Rain wants to wreck him. To dig his teeth into every soft piece of him.

Rain clenches his fists in the fabric at Aeon’s hips, dragging the skirt further up his skinny legs. Aeon trembles in his grip. Head lolling back against Rain’s shoulder.

“Say it again,” Aeon whispers.

“What? That you’re pretty?”

Aeon shakes his head. “No–the other–call me–fuck.”

Aeon’s cheeks flush violet beneath the blush. Rain watches him in the mirror, watches his throat work as he tries to figure out how to ask. Rain could wait him out. Force him to say it. That’s always fun. Watching his partner crumble as they ask for what they really want.

“What? A girl? You want me to call you my good girl?”

Aeon makes a noise like the words hurt–but the way his cock kicks tells another story. There’s wet spot forming there too, one to match the back. Aeon nods, hard, turning his head to mouth at Rain’s neck. Sloppy. Wet.

Rain chuckles. He dips his fingers under the hem of the skirt, pulling it up, until his fingers graze over Aeon’s balls. No underwear, he was right. Aeon hisses, cock kicking as Rain slides higher. Runs his finger along the soft underside of Aeon’s cock. Tracing a vein.

“Missing something?”

Aeon shudders. Eyes searching for Rain’s in the mirror. Rain’s stomach twists as momentary panic flits over Aeon’s face. Worry. Brow furrowing as he tries to figure out what he forgot–what he missed in Rain’s instructions.

“Good girls don’t usually forget their panties.”

The noise Aeon makes sounds like it’s been forced from him. Dug up from somewhere deep in his gut. Startled, pained. Rain turns his head to hide his grin in Aeon’s hair.

“I–thought–fuck. I thought you’d like it if I didn’t–”

“I do,” Rain says, mouth dragging over one of Aeon’s horns. “But still. If you want to be a good girl, you have to act like one.”

“Rainy,” Aeon’s hips twitch. Cock kicking under Rain’s fingers as Aeon tries to roll his hips against what little friction Rain is giving him. The movement rocks Aeon’s ass back against Rain’s cock. It spits more precum onto the dress. “Rainy I can be good. I am good.”

“A good what?”

Aeon swallows but doesn’t answer right away. Eyes wild, darting over Rain’s face as he tries to force himself to say it. He opens his mouth and nothing happens.

Rain pulls one hand away from Aeon’s hip, uses it to grab him by the jaw. To pull him away, hold him so Rain can look at him for real. The angle probably hurts Aeon’s neck, Rain’s fingers biting into his cheeks definitely do. But he doesn’t react to the pain. He just blinks up at Rain with his mismatched eyes–already glassy. Lips swollen from his time spent swallowing Rain’s dick.

“Say it,” Rain barks.

Aeon fights with hismelf for another breath but when it finally comes, it pours of out him in a rush. “Girl,” he spits, “I am a good girl. Please, Rain. Please I promise I am I–”

Rain shushes him. He leans down to press his lips to Aeon’s forehead, too softly to be anything but a threat.

“Prove it.”

#comet writes #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ghostober #aeon ghoul #rain ghoul #aeon/rain #phantom ghoul #phantom/rain #rain/aeon #rain/phantom #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction

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hd-wireless · 5 months ago

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📻🎶 H/D WIRELESS 2024 - WEEKLY WRAP-UP #1

🎶 Just a perfect week

Read fanfiction in the park And then later When it gets dark, look at art. Just a perfect week Reading at work in the loo, And then later a podfic, too And then home.

Oh it's such a perfect fest We're glad to share it with you Oh, such a perfect fest It just keeps us reading on, It just keeps us reading on. 🎶

🎤 Welcome to the 8th round of H/D Wireless Fest!

The time has finally come to start posting all the fantastic entries we’ve received this year!

We’ve revealed 9 top hits so far, with many more to come. The mods have been working non-stop since December to make this happen, so we’re beyond excited to finally be underway 🤩

As always you can listen to the prompted songs for the works we post on a playlists:

Click here for the YouTube playlist.

And now without further ado, our Wrap-up for the first week of posting:

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 Fly Away with Me Tonight? [Gen, Digital Art]

🎵 Song Prompt: Levitating by Dua Lipa 🎵Summary: A chance meeting, an invitation to dance

📻 ghost (might as well be gone) [Gen, Digital ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Might as Well Be Gone by Pixies 🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy retired from the Auror force and left England a decade ago, but he still receives the Daily Prophet. Today’s issue provides closure on the one case he was never able to officially solve.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic and Art 🎶

📻 Trade My Heart For Honey [M, 64.170, Digital Watercolour]

🎵 Prompt: Water Under The Bridge by Adele 🎵 Summary: A Witch who thinks she’s a Seer, a Seer who thinks she’s a Witch, a former nemesis-turned-something-turned-acquaintance who thinks they could be friends, and a Scottish village full of Muggles who think this is as much their business as the fair folk in the woods. Draco is going to prove them all wrong.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 You're on Your Own, Kid [E, 44.274]

🎵 Song Prompt: You're on Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift 🎵 Summary: In August of 1998, Draco leaves behind everything he’s ever known. With the help of two middle-aged lesbians, a Muggle bookshop, and a new best friend, Draco’s future is finally looking up. That is, until Harry Potter wanders back into his life a year later, undoing everything Draco has worked towards. Or, a tale about healing, forgiveness, and living for no one but yourself.

📻 Heartbeat [E, 22,791]

🎵 Prompt: Heartbeat by Childish Gambino 🎵 Summary: Harry hates Draco, and Draco hates him in return. Only it's not hate, not even a little bit. Featuring: a cooperative independent study, golden hour on wrecked sheets, strawberries in the summer at Grimmauld Place, water from fountains of (dubious) origin, purple Mardi Gras beads, and a bird with silly legs. Also featuring: heated arguments, infidelity, unquenchable desire, and heartbreak. Over and over again.

📻 Long for Bliss! [E, 9,400]

🎵 Song Prompt: This Must Be It by Röyksopp 🎵 Summary: Harry has a tough decision to make: take the blue pill or the red pill. He chooses a pink one instead and throws caution to the wind. What blows back comes in the form of a blond fallen angel that talks like he’s the Devil and moves like he’s fucking. Or: Harry tries MDMA for the first time and unexpectedly encounters a mysteriously captivating Draco at KOKO London.

📻 Going Down Swinging [E, 4,661 ]

🎵 Song Prompt: Hello Mudduh, Hello Fadduh! by Allan Sherman 🎵 Summary: “Who are you?” he asked, feeling around for a truly abominable pair of glasses he fixed firmly above his nose. “I’m Draco,” he answered. “Draco—” He paused. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember; it was that the memory wasn’t there.

📻 The Most He’s Ever Said [E,16,431]

🎵 Song Prompt: One of Your Girls by Troye Sivan 🎵 Summary: It takes them twenty years.

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 [Podfic] A Different Kind of Meaning by p1013 [E, 01:42:57]

🎵 Song Prompt: 'Outnumbered' by Dermot Kennedy 🎵 Summary: The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning. It's the first constructive thing he's done in years.

#hd wireless #hd wireless 2024 #drarry #drarry fic #drarry art #drarry podfic #drarry fic and art #weekly wrap up no 1

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bloofinntoona · 2 years ago

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cross your heart: part 1

Word Count: 4 k

Themes: angst, aged-up characters, suggestive themes (no smut), sebastian sallow x F!reader

Summary: why did sebastian sallow disappear after graduation? even after all the years you’ve spent trying to forget him, you realized that he never left your heart. would things be the same when you accidentally saw him again, now as your foe?

One

You took a deep breath.

Two

Three

Four

You exhaled.

Five

“Expelliarmus!” you shouted as you leapt from the makeshift barricade made out of wooden debris, casting a light blue spark directed to the figure across you. In a split second, as his wand flew from his grip – you casted “Confringo!”, waves of flame burst from your wand, burning the man. Taking another beather, you felt the world was at a standstill. Fog clouded your vision, the cold winter night breeze stung your reddened ears, your eyes darting between the hoard of hooded foes casting curses and hexes and your team of Auror officers. “Just a little bit more, my friend!” You snapped back to reality, focusing on Natty, who was chasing down a mongrel — you’d assumed was an Animagus.

Of course, there was no time to waste. Just a little bit of push and this battle will be finished. “Incendio!” A ring of fire spread around you, blazing the group of inferi that were closing in on you. You ran towards the biggest tent in the area, scanning the dimly-lit room. “Avada Kedavra!” You immediately dodged the green light, heart beating wildly against your chest. Godric’s Heart, just a second late and you would be dead. You swiftly striked “Diffindo!”, inflicting a wound on the man’s arm. “Depulso! Flipendo!” The wizard’s body flung all over the room, finally slammed down to the ground with a loud Thump! Blood spluttered from the man’s mouth, most likely from broken bones. Carefully inching closer, you stepped on the dark wizard’s black crooked wand, snapping it in half. You pointed your wand at his direction, as you leaned down to check on him, you noticed a hydra dragon with three heads tattooed on his forearm. Just as Officer Singer had warned you, the group of Dark magicians were a part of the recently formed group of Dark Arts users who would go around torturing and killing people, always leaving three slash marks on the victims’ chests. You pushed thee tip of your wand against the wizard’s neck, “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” He let out a sinister laugh, catching you off guard, he landed a punch right in your stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs as you stumbled down. “You can’t stop us all,” he winced, “kill one, and more will rise. Apparate!” In a split second, the dark wizard vanished into a black smoke, leaving you on the floor, clutching your stomach in pain.

Natty came rushing into the camp, seeing you writhing on the ground, she grabbed a Wiggenweld potion from her satchel and offered the bottle to you. “Are you alright?”

You swiftly gulped the green liquid in one shot, promptly reducing the pain you had been dealing. “Thank you, I’m alright now,” you sighed, looking around the now wreck of a room, “I’m sorry I couldn’t catch him. Ruth was right, he is one of those blasted Hydra members.”

Natty shook her head, “Don’t worry.” She picked up the dark wizard’s broken wand, securing the pieces in her bag. “I think this should suffice. We can take this to the Ministry for further investigation. Come on, now.” Natty casted Incendio, creating a small bonfire in the middle of the tent. “Let’s get out of here.” Hoisting you up, she threw a handful of Floo Powder from her pocket to the fire, “Ministry of Magic!”

You closed your eyes, letting the green flames envelope your body, transferring you to your destination.

It had been a week since you, Natty, and several other Auror officers ransacked a Hydra encampment. Officer Ruth Singer, now promoted as one of the Auror heads, ordered you to take a couple days off from raiding. To be quite honest, you knew she needed someone to do the long overdue paperwork. You didn’t mind, it was a nice break from putting your life on the line all the time.

Ever since the end of year sixth studying at Hogwarts, you had decided to take on the journey to become an Auror officer. After all, you did spend some time defeating bands of poachers, spiders, goblins, and even trolls. A small part of you wanted to leave your fighting days behind, as you stopped using Ancient Magic altogether after the passing of Professor Fig. You kept your last memory of the honorable man close to your heart – as you promised him that you shall make sure to be the keeper of Ancient Magic, so the powerful force wouldn’t end up in the wrong hands. There were two reasons why you eventually chose to be an Auror; firstly, on a one particular day, Professor Hecat sat you down, brewed you a delightful piping hot cup of tea, and convinced you that you have a massive potential to fight for the good of Wizardkind. She also added that it could be a good challenge to practice your duelling skills without the use of Anicent Magic.

The second reason is, the Slytherin boy that has successfully taken your heart as hostage. It was none other than the one-and-only Sebastian Sallow.

Where to begin with Mr. Sallow? It was an understatement to say that you had a history with him. The connection that you formed Sebastian, even after ten years or so, you couldn’t find anything that came close to the euphoric feelings that you had when you stare into his hazel eyes. Until now, you didn’t understand why it felt so natural to care about the boy. You genuinely tried to help him find a cure for his sick twin sister, even letting him dove deep into the Dark Arts – leaving you with a life lesson that such force shouldn’t be trifled with. You swore that he’d enchanted you, that you would do anything just to see a glint of smile on his face.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the school halls, lights from the floating candles barely cleared your path. It was late into the night after the graduation party. Everyone, even the paintings, were fast asleep, trunks packed as the students were ready to either further their education, or some planned to explore the vast world beyond Hogwarts. Pointing your wand to the clock, turning the gears, prompting the furniture to open its door. You hurried down the stairs to the Undercroft, the secret hideout that only Sebastian, Ominis, and you knew. However, Ominis was rarely seen in the croft after the incident with Solomon Sallow. Ties were severed that day. You tried convincing the Blonde boy, but it was for naught. Nothing you and Sebastian could do to turn back time and restore the trust. You tried your best to cheer Sebastian as well, greeting him with the best smile that you could muster, and offering your shoulder to cry on whenever dark thoughts clouded his mind. Sebastian still had an interest in duelling, thus you made a pact with him that you both would take the N.E.W.Ts together and join the Auror office. The last years in school were spent taking advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potion classes together.

You well knew that your feelings had blossomed into something more. You couldn’t finish the day without thinking about Sebastian. Often times he would visit you in your dreams, holding him, touching him, wondering how his lips tasted like. You were no coward. Despite the so-called etiquette of being a proper lady that had been instilled in you, you determined to at least confessed your feelings to your closest friend before you leave the school.

There he was, standing in front of the triptych, adorned in the green and black Slytherin coat. You’d always thought the color green suited him the most. “This is it”, you thought, taking long strides to the boy. He turned around, flashing a faint smile. Before he could utter a single word, you grasped his tie, pulling him down, and crashing your lips against his. You could feel his body stiffen, probably surprised at your sudden brazen act. It was almost taboo for women to make the first move. It didn’t take long for Sebastian to reciprocate, cupping your face. You felt like your body was weightless, as if you were on the back of Highwing again. Yet at the same time, your body burned hotter than fire.

Few words were exchanged that night. You spend the dark hours wrapped in each other’s arms, you swore you fell asleep smiling, imagining your future together with him.

Morning came, and to your devastation, you were left alone with your heart in pieces and a note etched in a parchment paper.

“I’m sorry. -S.S”

That was the last time you saw Sebastian Sallow.

A knock against the door to your office took you out from your nostalgic thoughts. “Natty!” you exclaimed, jumping out of your desk to hug your friend. Natty was your rock, she was there when you spent your days wallowing the lost of your love. With perseverance, she pulled you out from your misery and became your companion in your studies in becoming an Auror. “Ruth is expecting you in her office. And by the way, looks like you received another letter of marriage proposal.” Natty added, flapping the envelope in front of your face. You sighed, taking the piece of paper and threw it in the bin, alongside several other unopened proposal letters.

“When do you think they stop sending us proposals? I don’t even know them!” you huffed.

Your best friend laughed, patting your back, “I think some of them have started calling you a spinster.”

You rolled your eyes, “They can say whatever they want, Natty, I don’t care.” You truly don’t. You tried opening your heart for another men to fill, yet your heart still yearned for the same Slytherin boy that you loved years ago. You found zero reason to shack up with someone that you don’t love. “Alright then, best be on my way to see Ruth.”

The Daily Prophet paper clippings, stacks of wanted posters, and report papers decorated Officer Ruth Singer’s desk. Her office was pretty small for an officer in her calibre, but she has always been more keen in patrolling out than being stuck in her desk. You closed the door behind you. “Hello Ruth, anything I can do for you?”

“Ah!” the head Auror set her tea down, “just the person I was looking for. I trust you’ve recovered well?”

“Yes ma’am.” You smiled, “I’m ready for whatever task you have in mind.”

“Good. I have a case that might piqued your interest.” The brunette-haired woman set down a map in front of you, pointing to a spot down around the Clagmar Coast area. “I have just received a tip that there were sightings of dark wizards here. Unfortunately, I had assigned our other officers to other cases, and I supposed you can investigate this?”

“Are they a part of Hydra, ma’am?”

Officer Ruth shrugged, “They most likely are. Please, be careful. Don’t engage if there are a lot of them. Just report back to me.”

You gave the woman a salute and went back to pack the essentials – an array of potions and plants were hastily dumped into your bottomless satchel. The longer you dilly dally, more possibility for the target to move.

It has been a while since you went to the gloomy coast. You were never a fan of the place. It was cold, muddy, filled with Dugbogs and Poachers to top it off. Being on your broom wasn’t so bad though, feeling the fresh ocean breeze blowing against you. You flew quite close to the grounds, scanning the area. You thought you went around twice, feeling a bit disappointed that you might have just missed the suspects.

That was until you heard a blood curling scream. You quickly titled your broom downwards, flying faster to the source. Putting your broom away, you casted a Disillusionment spell, rendering you invincible. You hid behind a huge tree, peeking to see the commotion. To your horror, you saw a man, one of the men you saw on the wanted posters on Officer Ruth’s desk, hands tied behind his back, writhing in pain on the ground. “Please, please, please,” he coarsely cried, “make it stop… or, just kill me!”

“Ya better shut yer’ trap or I will keep you for days!” one of the hooded wizard shouted, before pointing his wand to the pleading man. “Crucio!”

You cringed as you heard the man pained cries, his limbs were twisted in directions that you thought weren’t humanely possible. “Crucio!” Another curse hurled from a woman, also covered in dark hooded robe. The tortured man was reduced to tense muscles and breathless grunts. His back arched as if his body was snapped in half. You could see a shadow of the third figure looming over.

Scanning the area once more, you deducted that there were only three of them. Confident that you were able to take them on, you inched closer to the group, still under the Disillusionment charm. “Petrificus Totalus!” you shouted, binding one of the dark wizard closest to you. As he was paralyzed, you attacked him with a series of casts, pushing the man away from the victim. The woman laughed maniacally as she scream incoherently, calling a hoard of inferi to attack you. You used a combination of Confringo and Incendio to burn the living corpses. Trying to keep track of the three opponents was harder than you thought, especially with the inferi spawning all over the place. “Levioso! Accio!” you were able to flung the man, hurting him with basic casts while he was mid-air, he finally dropped down defeated. After burning through the corpses, you were able to find the hooded woman running away from you. You chased after her, as you closed in, you waved your wand, transfiguring the woman into a barrel. Without any hesitation, you quickly destroyed the item.

Wait, you thought to yourself, there was one more. While you tried to catch your breath, your eyes frantically darting to every corner of your peripherals, yet you couldn’t find the third figure.

One

You took a deep breath.

Two

Three-

Just before the count of four, you felt a cold blunt item poking against your neck, hitching your breath. Your felt your body tensed, how could you miss this? Is this the end? Your thoughts were all over the place. And then it hit you, the smell of ashes, sandalwood, and a tinge of musk – the scent that was etched in your heart. The scent of the man that slipped away from your arms long time ago. Your visions were blurry, knees weak as you felt the man’s figure pressed against your back. “Petrificus Totalus.” You heard him whisper, before everything went dark.

Sobs and cries filled your ears as you stood in front of a grave at Feldcroft. “Anne Sallow, loved and remembered forever.” Written on the stone, simply decorated with a small angel statue on the top. You placed the white Lily flower on top of the soil, before finding your way back between the small crowd. Everybody tried their best to find a cure, but Solomon was right, the curse was stuck with the poor girl forever, slowly rotting her body away. But she passed being cared by her friends, especially Ominis, who never left her side after graduating from Hogwarts. To everyone’s surprise, her own twin brother was not there. It felt like the person who fought for her the most has given up. Deep down, you had hoped that you were able to see him again this time, finding the answer why he left. You were disappointed once again, forced to bury your feelings again.

The sound of waves crashing greeted you as you woke up from the deep slumber, feeling the soft blanket wrapped around your body. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open and gained focus, taking particular interest to the full moon peeking through the window. Your body shot up, finally conscious enough to realize that you were in an unfamiliar room – old dusty wooden floor illuminated by the crackling fireplace; maps, newspaper clippings and posters pasted on the wall, just above a desk filled with stacks of books. Your eyes trailed down, finding empty bottles of what you assumed were muggle-made alcoholic beverages.

“Ah, you’re awake.” A calm voice broke your trance. Just as you thought, Sebastian Sallow stood in front of you. Gone was the schoolboy you kept in your memories all this time, replaced by a tall, brooding man towering over you. He kept his hair in a similar style, his gaze significantly darkened, making you wonder about the things that he had experienced throughout the years. You find solace seeing the same tiny freckles adorned his face, wait, did he always have that scar on the right side of his jaw? Your eyes trailed down to his left forearm, to your disappointment, there was the hydra dragon tattoo wrapped around his arm, just underneath the rolled sleeve of his shirt.

Immediately, waves of emotions crashed onto you like a tsunami – anger, relieve, frustration, yearning, all mixed up in your head. You couldn’t even stop the tears that were dripping down, wetting the blanket. Sebastian gently sat down on the bed, he reached for your hand, yet you pulled back. “I thought you died,” you croaked between sobs, “I-I had to forget about you.” You heard him sigh, bringing a flask to his lips, taking a swing from it. “Why, Sebastian? Was I meant nothing to you? What we had… was that even real?”

He kept his silence, the only thing that was audible was the sound of your hiccups and logs cracking from the fireplace. After you calmed down a bit, he offered you the flask, you gave him a suspecting look. “Relax,” Sebastian sighed again, “if I wanted to kill you, I’ve already done that when you were unconscious.”

You huffed, taking the container and downed the liquid inside. It was bitter, and the alcohol was strong enough to make you wince. “It was an old wine I got from my trip to Italy.” Sebastian explained, “helps with the headache after a binding spell.”

“Italy?” You asked. He was right, the wine did calm you down – physically and emotionally. You were too tired to fight him anyways, all you wanted to do was to find out the truth.

“I had to go away and clear my head-“

“Without telling me? Without sending a single owl? Don’t you know how worried I was?” you riled up again, now finding the strength to get up from the bed.

Sebastian stood again, now you could see how he was significantly taller than you. He crossed his arms, “Go on.”

You scoffed loudly, “Go on? I have much to say to you, Sallow. I spent years trying to get us to where we were before the incident… but you just ran away! Like a coward!”

“A coward?” He shook his head, a bitter grin plastered across his face, “Do you even try to listen to yourself? Have you ever, during those years, thought about what I was dealing with? Yes, I was eternally thankful that you didn’t send me to the Ministry, but have you ever thought about what it felt like to see the people closest to me deathly scared of me?”

“I saw how you and Ominis grimaced whenever I held my wand. I knew what you both thought, you are scared that I would use the Dark Arts again. You said you trusted me, but I know we were never be able to go back to where it was before.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you turned away from him. He was right, you had clinged on to the hope that your things would be the same again because of your selfish desire to have Sebastian. “You didn’t even come to your sister’s funeral.” You whispered.

“She never said that she wanted to see me again. The least I can do is to honor her wish.” He said coldly, taking another sip of the wine.

“Then why did you join…” you turned to him, eyeing the tattoo on his arm, “that group? Is cutting us out from your life not enough?”

“I tried to stay away from the Dark Arts, I truly do. But… The potential that I felt… I still believe that there are more to it than just forbidden curses. And, don’t you see that we only inflict them on crime suspects? How is that different from what you Aurors do?”

You fell silent.

“Morality is a strange concept, is it not?” Sebastian scoffed. “Just like your special ability with Ancient Magic. The difference is that I chose to embrace it.”

You took the flask from his hand, taking a big swing, the whole ordeal took a toll on you. Walking closer to the desk, you glanced over the old Dark Art books – probably stolen from the restricted section years ago, several letters sprawled on the surface, and to your surprise, you pulled a tattered ribbon, stuck between stacks of journal.

It was very difficult to make sure you have all your belongings packed in your trunk when tears wouldn’t stop streaming from your eyes, wetting the pile of crumpled clothes under you. On top of that, your hair was getting in the way of your sight. You searched for the ribbon that you’ve been wearing to tie your hair – a silk ribbon of your house color that Sebastian gifted you on your first birthday at Hogwarts. You couldn’t find it anywhere, you’d thought you most likely dropped the item at the Undercroft. Never mind then, maybe it’s better that way, easier for you to forget Sebastian.

Deep in your personal thoughts, you didn’t even realize the footsteps slowly closing in on you. His warm breath caressed your nape, sending quivers down your spine, feeling goosebumps all over your body. Both excitement and fear took over you – even after all this time, there were some nights that you would find your fingers inside your undergarments, imagining Sebastian’s deep brown eyes on top of you. Carefully, he ran his fingers through your long hair, cascading down to your back. He grasped a strand of hair, bringing it against his lips, “You kept your hair long… Just the way I like it.” You hated to admit the truth, but you have been growing your hair ever since Sebastian made a remark that he ‘thinks long haired girls are very attractive’.

Gathering the last bits of courage you have, you turned around to face the imposing figure behind you. God, you were utterly bewitched by him. Your hands found their rest on the edge of the desk, taking a mental note that you were as cornered as lamb beneath its prey. Sebastian dared to get closer, his leg nestled between yours, calloused hands laid on top of yours, interlacing your fingers with his. In the corner of your eye, you were drawn to focus on a small tattoo just below his ear. It was an initial. Your initials, eternally inked on his freckled skin. “Sebastian,” you gently whispered, “all this time?”

“Always.”

The world stopped moving as he laid his lips against yours.

One

You breathed in. Ashes. Sandalwood. Musk.

Two

Three

Four

Sebastian Sallow tasted the same as he did years ago.

A/N: Thank you thank you thank you so much for reading my works! I’ve been thinking about this story for days now. I never thought that I would be writing again, but the love I’ve received from the HL community encouraged me to share my stories. Hope you enjoyed this one. I’m thinking to do a second part with mature themes. Please let me know your thoughts! <3

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow fanfic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #natsai onai #ominis gaunt #sebastian #harry potter #wizarding world #hhhhhh i hope you all like this #poured my heart and soul into this #love yous

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