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777heavengirl · 3 months ago

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Jolene

James Potter x Reader One-shot ! warnings: childhood friends to lovers, jealousy, fluff, slight sirius x reader for the plot, raw dogging posting bc it has not been looked over by my beta reader whoops! word count: 5,311 masterlist notes: sorry i disappeared for like a week, i started classes— anyway this was born out of me listening to Jolene by Dolly Parton on repeat and realizing it is describing lily enjoy!

Lily Evans was a gorgeous woman. Her emerald green eyes and the milky skin clad in freckles were incomparable. Lily Evans was like the sun, her flaming auburn hair and the mere fact that she was one of the brightest witches in the castle. You knew this quite well, the shine of her hair, the glow of her smile, the softness of her skin. James would never let you forget it. How no one could compete with her. How her beauty was beyond compare.

Yet you couldn't hate her, not how she seemed to know the answer to every question, not how she stood up from the bed neighboring yours looking as radiant as ever, every morning. No, Lily Evans was sweet as honey and the best dormmate you could ask for. You couldn't bring to dislike her even when the man you were sickly in love with raved about her.

James Potter was a beautiful man. His hazel eyes shined big and bright, the strong curves of his face, the curly black hair that bounced as he laughed, and his warm brown skin. James was the definition of sun-kissed. Your families had always been stuck together like glue, you spent your entire life attached at the hip, growing up next to him was a blessing and a curse. His never-ending joy at life, and the jokes that bounced off of his lips, were enough to turn anyone's day around. His smile was so bright you felt like you were staring at the sun itself. James was like the sun, you could never look at him directly, not for too long. As he grew girls threw themselves at his feet, he became a bit of an arrogant brat, but he always made it clear he only had eyes for one girl.

James Potter was in love with Lily Evans— the most perfect woman in the world.

You were such a fool.

"Come off it," Lily laughed as she pushed James his body rocking to the side as he also giggled to himself. They had gotten closer the last couple of months, seemingly out of nowhere. You couldn't help but watch pathetically from the couch on the other side of the common room. You wondered what he was saying to her, his hand covering his mouth as he whispered in her ear. Her eyes shone with humor and joy, and so did his although a bit more mischievous, but that was just James. You couldn't help but clench your hands together, nails digging into your flesh.

"You should stop doing that dollface" Your eyes flickered back to Sirius, who leaned over from the back of the couch, his face awfully close to yours. You couldn't help but hold your breath. His nimble fingers took your hand, loosening your grip on it and massaging the half-moon marks on your hand. You went to turn away, Lily's laugh breaking the silence again and calling for your attention but Sirius turned your head towards him with a single finger, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours and something you couldn't see. "Just keep looking at me don't question it-" You could barely hear what he said, but his lips broke into a shit-eating grin, shiny teeth bared at you. And you couldn't help but laugh, slightly out of nervousness, but mostly because Sirius's antics were always ridiculous. Your laughter made his smile widen.

He placed a small kiss on your temple and said thanks doll, as he let go of your hand and disappeared again.

"He's ridiculous," Remus barely glanced from his parchment, his feather still grinding his essay away. The slight suspicion of what Sirius was up to crawled its way into Remus’s head as he watched the two of you interact, as he watched James's giggles stop from across the room, distracted.

”You’re not wrong there,” you frowned as you turned back to balancing your book and the essay you had been working on, on your lap. “I wonder what’s gotten into him”

Remus just chuckled without looking up. You didn’t hear Lily’s or James’s giggles again.

Sirius had started sitting next to you in every class, often replacing James, waving him off with a sit next to Moony, more often than not. This seemed to push James further into Lily's arms, as he sat next to her, she didn't seem to complain. You weren't loving it. Not that you disliked sitting with Sirius, he was more than competent, against all odds. But still.

"May I ask what you're playing at Black?" your words were low as your charms professor droned on and on about something you hadn't really been paying attention to.

"Whatever do you mean sweetheart?" He gave you his familiar toothy grin, eyes dancing with devilishness "Can I not sit next to my dear Y/N? One of the smartest, most beautiful witches our age?" you scrunched your nose, lips suppressing a smile at his antics. "Not to mention one of my best mates?"

"You know what I mean Sirius, you've been awfully touchy lately" His smile widened, and moved his face slightly closer to yours "Not to mention awfully close," this last part came out as a whisper. He really had been close, always a breath away, always pushing his face close to yours. Two nights ago he had smushed himself to read your book along with you, you had been practically cheek to cheek.

Sirius had always been touchy, he was always resting on someone, sprawled on James’s bed, his legs across Peter’s on the couch, asleep on Remus’s shoulder. But this was a little out of character.

Sirius opened his mouth to speak but the large bell signaling you guys were done echoed through the castle. He broke into a grin again, and grabbed his stuff quickly, shoving papers and quills inside his bag unceremoniously.

“hurry up doll,” he muttered as moved to shove your stuff equally as clumsily into your bag and took a hold of your wrist, dragging you. You pushed by your friends, shooting a look of confusion toward Remus. He smiled at you with a wink, as he walked.

Sirius finally stopped and you ran into him.

"For Godric's sake, what is up with you?" You finally got him to let go of your wrist and he closed the door to the empty classroom he had shoved you in. "If this is you trying to seduce me— it definitely isn't working I think we gotta send you to a workshop,"

He snorted as he shook his head, "If anyone is going to a workshop on seducing it's you doll," you crossed your arms and huffed "I'm trying to help you out here-"

"With what Sirius?"

"Making Prongs jealous duh" he looked at you like you were stupid, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. A small twinkle in his eye caught your eye, it was the type you saw when he was about to make something detonate. Maybe this time he wanted to explode your life.

"You're absolutely bonkers" You couldn't believe what he was saying, as if James would ever be jealous of anyone in respect to you.

"You fancy him no?" He twirled his wand around, his grey eyes analyzing your facial expressions. You tried your hardest to keep a poker face, trying and failing to not let him see. Sirius had always been a very observant man.

"It's a lost cause, Sirius," you laughed dryly as you thought of it, "she has me beat"

He frowned, "who?"

"Lily, obviously, are you stupid?" he pulled at a piece of your hair at the insult "You've lived with James since we were 11, he's been utterly smitten with her ever since he met her what do you mean who?"

"I think you're the stupid one, they're just friends" You shook your head, a hand going to massage the bridge of your nose as you thought about what he was saying. "yuh huh, Prongs told me so himself"

"And you believed him?" you scoffed "he says he's over her every four months Sirius I didn't peg you as gullible"

He pulled your hair again and you swatted his hand away. You thought about it, James has said the same thing before, how he's over her once and for all, I, James Potter will be over Lily Evans by the end of the week. It had never worked. Their whispers and their giggles, their closeness over the past couple of months were definitely not friendly. Maybe it was for her but for him? Not a chance.

"I really do think you have a chance with him," his tone was lower now, "I reckon he just needs the right push"

"Sirius even if she isn't into him, even if he didn't like Lily, the most perfect woman on the planet" he frowned "he would still never see me as anything more than what I already am to him," you stared straight into his eyes.

You had thought about it many times of course. You prayed and pleaded to the universe every year that Lily would never reciprocate James's feelings. The second you saw their newfound closeness you felt like dropping to your knees and begging her. Begging her to please Lily don't take him. Lily was a captivating woman, she could easily have her choice in men, and she did, but you felt like you could never love again. You knew it was a lost cause, you had heard her name muttered in his sleep, even when he was napping with his head on your lap. The first time it happened, you hadn't even noticed the tears on your cheeks, nor the ones welled up in your eyes. It had always been clear to you, how easily it would be for her to take him, he wasn't your man. She just had to say yes.

So you cried, time and time again, away from prying or worrying eyes. This was your secret to bear.

You looked at Sirius again, shaking your head. Sirius could feel droplets of regret settle in his stomach as he saw the tears well up in your eyes. He had never seen you cry.

“Fat chance Black”

James Potter thought the world of you. He knew he could not live without the curve of your face, the way you smiled at him as if you knew something he didn't. He felt like you could see his soul. You always said he smiled that way too. He wondered if this overlapping trait was a byproduct of a childhood spent together. A childhood spent glued at the hip, one of him being your knight in shining armor when you played, a childhood of sticks and stones that he never let your knees touch. His knees were covered in scrapes and scars that would never fade, but something deep within him never allowed him to let the same happen to you. James Potter could not live without you. He couldn't help but watch how Sirius draped himself over you, and how he hurried to sit next to you. He couldn't help but notice the whispers and the giggles. He couldn't, for everything that was sacred, ignore the closeness. And the fact that you let Sirius press his cheek to yours and whisper merely a breath apart. That part had made his stomach turn.

It wasn't that the two of you weren't close. It was just that James had never seen you be close like that with anybody else. He had spent almost every day of his life by your side. Asleep with your cheeks pressed together, childish limbs all tangled up, you always woke up first and shoved him off the couch. He remembers when you used to hold his hand, his was always dirty with mud and grass, you never cared. You asked him to marry you when you were seven.

He promised you he would.

As you grew up, you continued with this closeness. You had slept in his bed more times than he could count, even at Hogwarts sometimes you'd climb into a corner of his bed. You'd always end up pressed against one another. You would still accidentally nap together on the couches at Potter Manor, or his head on your lap in the common room. And he could admit that Lily Evans had caught his attention, it had been an ongoing thin, and after certain revelations... Deep down he knew.

It had always been you.

James could only stare after you as you set down the hallway with the black-haired boy. A pat on the shoulder from Remus was enough to ground him again. James thought of Sirius's hand around yours.

"Where are they going-"

"Probably to snog in some empty classroom until they undoubtedly get caught," Peter spoke mindlessly as he struggled to untangle his sweater from his messenger bag. James stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn't thought about it. The possibility that the nearness between you and Sirius was something else, that you could be involved more intimately.

He thought of your lips, the soft plump lips that kissed his forehead. The ones that stretched into a smile every time you saw him, the ones that curled involuntarily when he said something stupid. The same ones that had kissed him in spin the bottle merely a year ago. He thought of those same lips kissing Sirius.

He might throw up.

James stared at Peter wide-eyed

"What? I thought we all assumed they had something going on" he shrugged as he finally separated the two items. "They're all close and disgusting everywhere— just like you and Lily-"

"There's nothing between me and Evans," Remus and Peter raised their eyebrows at the confession.

"You're always together so I just assumed" Peter's words might as well have been a mumble to James, as he continued to think of you and his best friend. How long had this been going on?

“Well there’s nothing”

You couldn’t help but think about what Sirius had said. He convinced you to let him do his thing, you don’t even have to do anything. But you couldn’t help but run laps around the thought of James being jealous. He didn’t seem upset with you having to kiss Remus during spin the bottle two months ago.

You thought back to the time you kissed. Your first, and most likely only, kiss with James Potter had been by the graces of an empty bottle of firewhiskey last year. You never failed to remember how he laughed after you kissed, a warm full-chested laugh, the kind he gets when he’s all riled up after outrunning Filch. The kind he gets when you set muggle fireworks in the forbidden forest and have to run away after lighting. You pushed him and he simply smiled widely, as if nothing had happened. It was a sharp contrast to the way he seemed to go all shy after Lily had to kiss him. His face seemed to go red and a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

Yes, not at all alike.

You wondered if Lily thought about that kiss as much as James probably did. You couldn’t get the image out of your head, his lips on hers. The lips that pouted at you every time you told him no, the same lips that kissed the top of your head when he passed by behind you and you were too engrossed in your work or broke into a smile every time you saw him. The lips that in childhood had kissed your hand and called you princess. You thought of those lips, kissing Lily.

Probably right now, it was 10 pm and she wasn’t in your dorm, her bed vacant next to yours.

“Why do you look so worried, sweets?” Marlene couldn’t help but notice the way you curled in your bed, the deep frown that had taken hold of your brows. She kneeled next to your bed and pushed the center of your eyebrows, “You’re bound to get wrinkles Y/N stop that”

”I don’t care Marls,” you unclenched your eyebrows nevertheless.

”What’s got you so down?” She leaned her head across her forearms on your bed, her short blonde hair looked windswept, her bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “is it Sirius?”

You moaned in frustration. Marlene Mckinnon was one of your closest friends. She was the first person you got close with at Hogwarts, her bed sat left to yours, she was your closest confidant.

“There’s nothing between me and Sirius-“

”Potter seemed to disagree he wouldn’t stop bombarding Sirius with questions during dinner,” you had decided to hide out in your room instead of going down for dinner, Marlene had set a muffin on your nightstand when she entered.

”What did Sirius say?” you bit your lip

”He just told him it was none of his business— I thought Potter was going to burst a blood vessel right then and there” she laughed as she pushed her finger on your forehead again, smoothing out the frown lines.

”Sirius thinks I have a chance with James,” her mouth did an o “he wants to make him jealous but I think he’s full of rubbish” Marlene had known for a very long time about your futile crush on the boy, it was hard to be as close to someone like Marlene, someone so in tune with people’s feelings without her finding out. She always shot you sorry looks when you'd see him with Lily. You pretended to ignore them.

”I can’t believe I’m saying this but Black finally had a good idea”

You groaned into your pillow, your hands pulling slightly at your hair. “What sort of friends are you guys?” Your words were muffled by your pillow and she laughed again but patted your hair,

”Friends that want you to be happy-“

”Yea well this isn’t the way” your voice got louder and higher pitched, you felt like you'd suffocate on the pillow “I’ll be happy being her bridesmaid when they get married and have three kids and live in a cute little house, and I'll be godmother to their children and be happy that at least I didn’t explode one of my closest friendships because the two of you have lost a couple of screws!” you tried your best to push some humor through your voice, you might've been grasping at straws.

”Who’s getting married?” Lily shot you a playful look from the doorway, you hadn’t heard her come in. You wanted to disappear into your sheets, you couldn’t even look at her right now. She groaned as she dropped her pile of books onto her bed.“Is Sirius giving you trouble? He seems so taken with you-“

You groaned as you buried your face into the pillow again, wanting nothing more than for the ground to swallow you. Marlene found the whole thing more than hilarious, her whole body shook as she laughed and she wiped her eyes of the wetness that had formed at the corners.

“I’m going to kill him-“

”What? You guys have been so smitten lately I just thought-“ Lily’s face twisted in thought, nevertheless the edges of her lip curled upwards

”Nothing is going on between me and anybody,” You got up swiftly, a bad mood settling in your stomach like a pile of rocks. “I’ll just see you later-" You grabbed a sweater, that you were pretty sure was one of the boys, it would not help you hide in the darkness of the castle but hopefully it would provide some warmth. You bent down to take your shoes from beside the door and walked out without further comment.

“Was it me?”

“I fear it might’ve been Lils”

“Hush-“

”Don’t tell me to hush Moony— you’re stepping on my toes” Sirius whined in a whisper

”Prongs you need a bigger cloak”

Sirius peered over James’s shoulder as the speckled boy opened the map, the footsteps at the end of the hall seemed to get nearer

“oh” James felt a swirl of emotions in his chest,

”Who is it Prongs-“ Peter barely managed to squeak out before James answered

”It’s just Y/N” the marauders huddled around the map now, watching the banner with your name circle the corner and float down the hall they were hiding in. “What d’you reckon she’s doing up-“

”Shhhh she’s getting close-“ They could see you now, James's brown sweater covering you, one of your shoes untying as you padded down the hall. Tears were in free flow now, they could see even through the darkness, the splotches on your face, and the tracks of tears down the curve of your face. You wiped them furiously with the edge of the jumper.

Something inside James warmed, all he wanted to do was close the distance. He looked briefly at Sirius, whose eyebrows were furrowed in worry. Sirius always hated seeing people he cared about cry. James wondered if he had done something to you. If there truly was something between you and Sirius.

You had well passed them now, but the marauders could still hear your sniffles from down the hall.

”Merlin-"

"hold the bag Moons" Sirius pushed the small bag of dung bombs onto Remus's arms and slipped out from under the cloak. Sirius couldn't help but smirk as James protested, whispering furiously to get back here.

Sirius started running then, to catch up with you, his light jogs and tall legs allowing him to catch up with you quickly. Your heart shot up as he got closer and you could hear him near you, quickly dying down when you turned to see the dark-haired boy behind you. Sirius hoped James could hear from here.

"Whatcha up to doll?"

"Godric Sirius what is wrong with you-" you placed your hand on your chest, feeling like your heart might fall out of it at any moment. You decided not to question where he came from, you just hoped the rest of his group, and James were far away.

James couldn't help himself, he was desperate to know what the two of you were talking about. So he herded the other two down the hallway, enough of a distance that you wouldn't notice the shuffling, Sirius definitely did, but close enough that he could see you clearly. The soft, homely mess of your hair, the tired curve of your eyes. He knew you were nervous, the way you played with your fingers and rocked your body, your leg. He could hear your honeyed voice, your tone close enough to the one you'd mumble to him with when you were about to pass out in his bed.

"Many things actually, I fear it all boils down to my mother-"

"You're so utterly insufferable"

"Yet you love me,"

"Sadly, I guess I love you" James felt the knot tie in his throat at your words, he tried to recall when you had said those words to him. Sirius smiled at your words, his fingers pulling at a strand of your hair. "oi watch it—"

He hoped James was ready to blow a fuse. Actually, he knew he was.

"Marlene agrees with you by the way," You softly swung your foot, hitting his own rather softly "I suspect you've both lost it"

"Nah, great minds think alike doll, you just gotta believe in me" he got closer now, pulling you into a hug. "Will you tell me why tears were falling down your pretty face?" He slightly rocked you, his cheek smushed against the top of your head. Sirius naturally would've comforted you regardless, he hated nothing more than seeing his friends cry. But the thought of James watching and stewing in his unexplored jealousy made him giggle in his head.

James's face was twisting in a way that was unfamiliar even to him. Bitter and negative feelings weren't exactly part of his repertoire. Remus tried his best to stifle a laugh.

"Lily just came in, while I was talking to Marls about the whole thing and I guess," you sighed loudly, looking up trying to make the newly formed tears that gathered in your eyes absorb back. James always thought you and Lily were pretty close, what could you possibly tell Marlene that you didn't feel well telling Lily? Why hadn't you told him? "I don't know Sirius I just lost it, she started talking about you and me and I lost it, I wanted to scream at her" James could feel his blood boil, Sirius had done something. He knew Sirius had. You buried your face in his chest again "My frustrations aren't her fault,"

"I know sweetheart, I'm sorry" Sirius continued patting your hair, he worried now, about what James could hear. He felt bad now, that he knew they were invading your privacy. "I feel guilty-"

"No Sirius it isn't your fault"

"I feel like I'm just opening up the wound, I don't want to give you false hope-" James felt like a teapot ready to explode with pressure.

He pulled the coat from over the three boys, revealing their presence in the hallway. You felt like you were going to drown in your shame.

"Sirius Black you're a bastard-" James closed the distance quickly, going straight for a tackle rather dramatically. Sirius pushed you away just in time. As the two boys wrestled on the floor, James continued to call him names, the idiot's and how dare you's flew unceremoniously. All Sirius could do was laugh

"I knew you'd do something to'er you good for nothing-" James was shaking him now, ignoring the fact that Sirius kept laughing, "I knew you'd make her cry-"

"James he didn't make me cry," your tears flowed down your cheeks again, you felt shame and embarrassment swim in your chest. You cried because you knew you had to come clean, Sirius wouldn't do it for you. There weren't many excuses he could come up with right now. You could feel yourself sweating cold, like the morning dew on leaves, embarrassment stuck to you.

You couldn't help but take a good hard look at him now. At James, who looked at you with his stupid hazel eyes the size of the sun, who clutched at his best friend's shirt collar. At his brother's, for you. How brashly he had swooped, sweet James who always came to your rescue, even when you didn't need it. When you were barely 7 and ran around his large yard, the rows of flowers and bushes his mother grew were gorgeous and they seemed the height of buildings, the thorns will cut you, I'll get you a flower Y/N. He had always been your knight, the shield of comfort where you hid from the rest of the world, the gentle solace to return to when life got too hard or people teased too intensely. Those people often woke up with apple-green hair thanks to him.

James was the noblest man you knew, with a heart twice his height.

You had fallen in love with him for this exact reason.

"It's you James" James felt like someone dropped him in the middle of the black lake. You shook your head, a sad smile carving your expression.

"I made you cry?" he sounded 7 again, innocent and afraid that you'd be hurt. His voice was soft and traveled faintly through the otherwise quiet hallway. Remus and Peter seemed to be holding their breath.

"I love you," James dropped his grip on Sirius now, who hit his back painfully against the stone floor with a groan. All he could manage was to look at you, his weight still resting between Sirius and his knee on the floor. "but I know I can't compete with Lily and that's alright, I reckon one day it'll pass."

You took his silence to heart, Remus couldn't help but shoot you a worried look, his brows furrowed the way they always did when he could tell your heart hurt like he could hear it clenching. You gave them one last smile, trying to wipe the sticky fingers of embarrassment from your being as you began to walk away, praying that nothing stood between you and the common room.

"You're an idiot Prongs-" Sirius pushed James off, and the brown-haired boy rolled to the floor, his back against the cool stone as he thought of you.

”She loves me-“

”We all heard her,”

“Shut up Moony-“

”Well she doesn’t know does she-“ The boys looked at Peter like he had grown a second head. “That you love her.”

James groaned from the ground the skin of his cheeks feeling hot.

“I reckon you oughta go after her” Peter said as he put the map in his back pocket, the three boys stood around to James looking at him from at ground.

James buried his face in his hands. You seemed so defeated, so sad that you loved him. How could that ever be a sad thing?

“In a surprising turn of events Wormtail’s right, move it Prongs-“ Sirius kicked James in the thigh, causing the boy on the floor to jump into action. He stumbled up, looking comically disheveled. He opened his mouth to speak to which Remus told him to Just go!

So James ran, he ran through the hallways so fast he thought he’d start levitating. It wasn’t hard for him, to catch up, not with the length of his legs or the pace he had set, in fact, he found you fairly quickly, yelling your name down the hall. You yelped as he skirted to a stop right into your arms, colliding with you with little force.

”You’re going to get us caught it’s after hours already-“

“I don’t care-“ he pulled you closer to his chest, his arms completely around you now “I had to tell you, and truly that’s just the thing I don’t care whether it’s morning or the middle night or truly any other time of day hell it could be in the middle of Charms-“

“you’re not making sense James-“

”Oh, right” He took a deep breath, but the silence lingered, his hand now skirting around the hair that framed your face, almost touching but not quite. His face was so close to yours that you could see the flecks of a light brown in the underlayers of his irises. “I just meant to say— to tell you that, well I love you too”

”I thought you and Lily-“ He got closer, if it was even possible, his lips ghosting over yours now, waiting for you. His hand remained steady at the edge of your jaw.

“Enough about Evans yea?” you closed the distance, his lips had felt like a magnet pulling you in.

Kissing James felt different than kissing any other boy. It even felt different than the first time you kissed. This was sweeter, this wasn't under the scrutinizing gaze of your friends or the excuse of an empty bottle. This was intimate and filled with want, his soft plump lips seemed to fit perfectly with yours. The grip of your waist tightened and brought you closer to him as his kiss turned hungrier, and your hands traveled from his chest to his unruly locks of hair.

You finally parted with a sigh, a happy one you felt like. Satisfied.

He pressed his forehead against you humming in content.

"I'm confused-"

"Lily and I are just friends now, she's not exactly into me, is she? Or men in general I reckon but regardless" He looked into your eyes, his hands now cupping your face and adoration pouring from his gaze. "It's always been you, I love you"

"I love you too, you twat-"

this took me to long to cook up @prongsprincessworld :D

hope u all like it!!

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #marauders era #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #james potter x reader #james potter #james x reader #james fleamont potter #platonic james x lily #jealousy #fluff #james potter fluff #james potter childhood friends to lovers #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fanfiction

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jellybonbons · 5 months ago

Text

Shared Apartment, Shared Feelings

Leon Kennedy x gn afab!reader

CW: 18+ (mdni), virgin reader, college roommate au, retired fuckboy!leon, vendetta trio (chris, leon & rebecca), talks about virginity/relationship/trauma (car accident), fluff/angst/smut, a lot of kissing, dick piercing, oral job (afab receiving), pussy slapping, thigh jobs, aftercare.

Words: 7.4k

A/N: special thanks to my wife @roseglazedlens for beta reading and helping me with the banners <3 muah muah

Without a doubt, college is such a drag. It’s a wonder you haven’t given up on yourself already, with all the assignments piling up, submissions one after another, professors breathing down your neck, dealing with crappy groupmates and customers from your part-time job. But here you are, almost three years deep into your degree, with no turning back now.

You sighed, feeling the strain in your fingers from typing away all day. The pressure was real with an assignment due in just a few days. You tried to unwind with a book and music, but the impending thought of reading through another paragraph might just make your head explode.

It’s been known that college can get pretty lonely at times. Sure, you've got friends here and there, but they're all caught up in their own stuff, on top of all that, their partners. This is when you wish you had one yourself. You've had your fair share of relationships or flings in the past, but it never really went beyond first base – blame it on your commitment issues and insecurities.

Virginity is a funny thing, isn't it? Some people don't really give it much thought, while others, like yourself, see it as a significant part of who they are. To you, it's more than just a physical state – it's about vulnerability, about letting someone in and truly being seen. Maybe that's why your relationships never seem to last long. You realise now that you settled for them, not for yourself. You were caught up in the idea of a relationship rather than being honest with yourself about what you truly wanted and needed.

Heading into college, you finally found yourself crushing on someone – your roommate, Leon Kennedy. Your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. It started with your classmate-turned-friend, Rebecca Chambers, asking if you wanted to live with her and two of her friends since they had an extra room. Without hesitation, you agreed – after all, why not? Splitting the rent between four people and having a bigger apartment than your current one sounded like a win-win. But when you finally met her two friends, it felt like you stumbled upon an adorable squirrel with her two guard dogs.

You could definitely say that Leon and his other friend, Chris Redfield, were pretty protective of her, but Rebecca reassured them that she trusted you and thought you were a lovely person – bless her heart. From that day on, the tension slowly dissipated, and all of you learned how to live with each other, quirks and all. If there was ever a disagreement, Chris would call for a 'family meeting' to sort things out.

You've grown close to both Chris and Rebecca, but with Leon, it's different. He's close, yet there's still a sense of distance.

—

Exhibit A:

The huge, comfortable couch in the living room was decorated with a mismatched assortment of decorative pillows, giving the area a homely, well-worn feel. The walls were covered in posters of bands, and a shelf next to it held a tidy collection of DVDs. Game controllers, remote controls, and empty food wrappers were frequently strewn all over the coffee table – no matter how many times Rebecca told Chris and Leon to clean them up. The room had the ideal ambience for movie evenings thanks to the floor lamp's warm glow and the fairy lights.

You noticed that Leon would always have your favourite snacks on hand, without you even needing to ask. But then again, he made sure to get snacks for everyone else too. You never once mentioned your favourite snacks to him – you guess he might have overheard you talking to Rebecca in the dining area while he was playing video games with Chris in the living room that one time.

"Here," Leon said, passing you the brightly wrapped package after doling out snacks to the others.

“Thanks,” you said, taking them from Leon. “How did you know these are my favourites?”

He shrugged casually. “Maybe I'm just good at picking up on things.”

"But I've never told you," you pointed out, genuinely curious.

Leon hesitated for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. "I've got my ways of finding out,” he replied cryptically before turning away to grab a drink.

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by his response. “Oh, well, thanks again.”

"Oh my god! It's been so long since I've eaten those," Rebecca, who was cuddled up next to you, exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she gazed at your snacks. You chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"You want some?" you offered, opening the snack package.

"Yes, please!" she eagerly replied.

If you had turned back, you would have noticed Leon's ears turning a faint shade of red, but you were too focused on sharing the snacks with Rebecca to notice his reaction.

Exhibit B:

Amidst the chaos of exam week, you and Chris had taken over the living room for a study session. Notes, textbooks, and Post-it notes were strewn everywhere, creating a cluttered workspace. Rebecca had wisely chosen to isolate herself in her room, knowing that if she joined you two, it would devolve into gossip rather than studying. As for Leon, he preferred the solitude of studying alone.

By 2 am, Chris had already succumbed to exhaustion, snoring away on the couch. Meanwhile, you were hunched over your notes on the floor, frustration building as you re-read the material for what felt like the hundredth time. A headache was starting to form, exacerbated by the late hour and Chris' snoring.

Lost in your work, you didn't notice Leon's quiet approach until he set a hot mug of green tea on the coffee table beside you. "Take a break," he said casually, before moving over to Chris and gently nudging him awake, signaling that it was time for him to call it a night.

"Hey, wake up," Leon whispered.

Chris grunted in response, rolling over to his side and snoring loudly. Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes and deliver a – gentle – punch to Chris's arm, hoping it would be enough to jolt him awake.

"Ouch! Damn, Leon, that hurts," Chris groaned, rubbing his arm where Leon had punched him.

Leon, unapologetic, raised an eyebrow at Chris. "Maybe if you didn't snore like a freight train, I wouldn't have to resort to violence."

Chris, still rubbing his arm, shot you a playful glare. "Well, if someone didn't study so quietly, maybe I wouldn't need to fill the room with my soothing snores."

"Don't look at me, I'm just trying to study peacefully," you retorted, raising your hand in mock surrender while cradling the mug in your other.

"Yeah, right. Your snores are like lullabies, Chris. I almost fell asleep while making my late-night snack,” Leon said with a slight smirk.

Chris mockingly gasped. "You wound me, Leon. My snores are an art form."

You chuckled. "Well, gentlemen, whether it's an art form or a lullaby, it's time for the masterpiece to take a break. Chris, go get some beauty sleep." Chris nodded.

"You too, don't stay up too late," Leon said to you, shooting a glance in your direction before grabbing Chris by his shirt.

"I'm up, I'm up," Chris protested, his voice muffled as Leon playfully put him in a headlock and guided him towards his room.

You couldn't help but chuckle at their antics, taking another sip of your tea as you watched them disappear down the hallway.

—

You found yourself in a dilemma. Leon had always been just a friend, but lately, you couldn't shake off the growing attraction you felt towards him. It wasn't just his physical appearance that drew you in, although his blue eyes, his piercings and the little details about him were certainly captivating. It was the way he was always there for you, that’s what friends are for, right?

You discovered that you couldn't stop thinking about him, day or night. His presence seemed to linger in your mind, occupying your thoughts even when you were supposed to be focusing on something else. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his video game strategies or the way he would absentmindedly run his hand through his hair when he was deep in thought. And those moles scattered across his skin, you found yourself itching to trace your fingers over them, to memorise every little detail of him.

But despite your growing feelings, you were hesitant to act on them. You cherished the ‘friendship’ you shared with Leon and you were afraid of risking it by admitting your true feelings. So for now, you kept your emotions buried deep within, hoping that they would eventually fade away – but they didn’t.

—

Leon had been sceptical when Rebecca first introduced you to him and Chris. He thought you might have ulterior motives, using her to get closer to him for his body. After all, he had a reputation as a fuckboy, although he considered himself a retired one now. That's why both him and Chris were so protective of her; he didn't want to drag Rebecca into his messy past again.

However, Leon was genuinely surprised when he discovered that you didn't know much about his past. While you were aware of his existence, you weren't deeply immersed in campus drama, preferring to spend your time online with other interests. You treated him like any other person, and he found himself grateful for that. In the past, he had been the worst version of himself, indulging in alcohol, weed, and sex, using his body to get whatever he wanted. But hey, in this economy, whatever works.

He had grown accustomed to people using him, whether it was for physical gratification or emotional support. It was the darkest chapter of his history, and his once-close friendship with Chris and Rebecca had deteriorated to the point where they were practically strangers, but that was six months ago. Now they were back to being three peas in a pod, their bond stronger than ever.

Then came that one fateful night – that one awful night – when he had drunk too much and made the reckless decision to drive home while intoxicated from a party. What great friends he had.

As Leon stirred awake in the hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of machines punctured the air, accompanied by the clinical scent of antiseptic. His gaze fell upon Rebecca, slumbering peacefully in a chair beside his bed, though the fatigue evident in the bags beneath her eyes spoke of restless nights spent by his side. Summoning what little strength he could muster, he attempted to rouse her with a feeble movement of his finger.

Suddenly, Chris burst into the room, bearing two cups of coffee in hand. The sight of Leon awake nearly caused him to fumble the cups, hastily setting them down on a nearby table before rushing to his friend's bedside with evident concern. Rebecca, startled by Chris's sudden entrance and booming voice, blinked awake in a daze.

“Leon, you’re awake!” Rebecca's smile lit up the room as she clasped Leon's uninjured hand in hers.

Leon attempted to speak, but his dry throat betrayed him. Swift to notice, Chris quickly retrieved a water bottle and a straw for Leon. While Rebecca, with practised ease adjusted the bed to a more comfortable position, allowing Leon to sit up slightly. As soon as the straw touched his lips, Leon didn't hesitate to take a much-needed sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat.

Once he had quenched his thirst, Leon managed a weak smile of gratitude, his gaze shifting between Chris and Rebecca. "Thanks, guys," he murmured hoarsely, his voice still rough from disuse.

"Was anyone else hurt?” he asked anxiously, recalling the events of the previous night with a sense of dread. He knew he had made a terrible mistake by driving under the influence, and he dreaded the thought of anyone else being harmed because of his actions.

Chris exchanged a glance with Rebecca before answering, his expression sombre. "It was just you, Leon," he replied gently, placing a comforting hand on Leon's shoulder. "You're lucky, man. Could've been a lot worse."

Rebecca nodded in agreement, her worry evident in her eyes. "We're just glad you're okay," she added softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

For once in his life, he let his tears flow freely, openly crying in front of them. There were many reasons for his tears, but two stood out: their unwavering support despite his past behaviour and the stark realisation of how close he came to losing everything. It felt like a wake-up call, a sign that he needed to change his ways.

As both Chris and Rebecca leaned in for an embrace, he felt the warmth of their love enveloping him. That moment marked a new beginning for them. They took turns caring for him, offering support and encouragement every step of the way. And with their help, he began to see a therapist to address his trauma and work through his issues, determined to become a better version of himself.

He knew he wasn't perfect, but he was steadily making progress.

—

You were like a breath of fresh air, bringing a sense of normalcy to Leon's life outside his close circle of friends. The more he observed you, the more smitten he became. He found himself falling hard for you, enchanted by the melody of your voice and the way your smile lit up the room. Even when you laughed at his silly jokes while Chris and Rebecca remained unimpressed, it only deepened his infatuation. From your quick wit to your undeniable charm, he felt like a lovesick puppy in your presence.

Many moments with you left a lasting impression on Leon. One night, he had fallen asleep on the couch, and you had just returned from a night shift. Spotting Leon asleep, you crept, careful not to disturb him. You gently placed your belongings on the dining table before quietly slipping into his room to retrieve a blanket.

You returned with the blanket and draped them over him, ensuring he stayed warm throughout the night. As you crouched down beside him, you couldn't resist the urge to tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, smiling softly at the peaceful expression on his sleeping face.

As you quietly left the room and retreated to your own, Leon being the light sleeper he was, felt a rush of emotions flooding through him. His heart raced as he became aware of your proximity, even in his slumber. The gentle touch of your hand and the warmth of your presence lingered in his mind, leaving him feeling strangely comforted yet unsettled all at once. It was a moment he couldn't shake, stirring something within him that he couldn't quite put into words.

These mixed emotions were still present during another memorable moment, when you, Chris, Rebecca, and Leon gathered for a pizza dinner. Chris, in his usual generous fashion, ordered a variety – cheese, pepperoni, and BBQ pizzas. The living room transformed into a makeshift dining area as you all settled in to watch a movie while enjoying the feast. Despite the lively atmosphere, Leon found himself quietly observing you, the feelings from the previous night still lingering in his mind, adding a layer of depth to the otherwise ordinary gathering.

Whatever, he shook his thoughts away.

As the pizza boxes opened, Leon grabbed a slice of the BBQ pizza, only to discover a surplus of onions. His displeasure was evident and despite his efforts to discreetly pick off the offending toppings, the struggle did not go unnoticed by you.

Your laughter bubbled up as you observed Leon's onion-removing antics. "Not a fan of onions, huh?" you teased.

"Nah, I don’t like the extra crunch," Leon replied, continuing to pick them off.

You extended your plate towards him. "Just give them to me; I like onions," you offered with a smile.

"Really? Thanks," Leon responded, handing you the onion-laden slices.

"You need to stop being such a picky eater, Leon," Chris chimed in between bites of his pizza.

Leon shook his head defiantly. "Nope, not happening," he retorted, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Rebecca joined in, adding with a playful grin, "Hey, at least now we know who the real onion lover is around here!"

After your laughter died down, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Leon – you loved onions, but little did they know that you had a particular disdain for red onions.

Despite all this, Leon couldn't shake the memories that haunted him. Beneath the surface of his laidback demeanour lay a vulnerability he had yet to reveal to anyone outside his close circle of friends.

It was a sunny morning as you and Leon walked side by side to class, chatting idly about your schedules. But then your conversation was abruptly interrupted by the screech of tyres from behind, a sharp, piercing sound that seemed to echo through Leon's bones.

Without warning, Leon's steps faltered, his body freezing in place as his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened with fear, his muscles tensing as if preparing for impact.

You sensed the shift in his demeanour immediately, instincts kicking in as you turned to face him, concern etched across your features. "Leon?" you called softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Don't," he said sharply, his voice tinged with a mixture of desperation and frustration. "Please, just... don't touch me."

You froze, your heart sinking at the rejection. You had never seen Leon react like this before, and the realisation only fueled your determination to help him.

"Okay," you said softly, pulling your hand back. "I won't touch you. But I'm here, Leon. You're not alone."

Leon's breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggled to regain control of his racing thoughts.

Thinking quickly, you searched for another way to reach him. You remembered the breathing exercises you learned from the internet, the rhythmic pattern designed to calm the mind in moments of distress.

"Leon," you said gently, your voice a steady anchor in the storm of his panic. "Listen to me. We're going to try something, okay? Just focus on my voice."

Leon nodded hesitantly, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

"Close your eyes," you instructed, your own voice calm and measured. "Now, take a deep breath in through your nose... and out through your mouth. Good. Now, let's do it again. In... and out."

Together, both of you repeated the breathing exercises; Leon's tense muscles gradually relaxing with each steady breath. You kept your voice low and soothing, guiding him through the process with gentle encouragement.

The chaotic noise of the campus faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths. And with each passing moment, Leon felt the grip of panic loosening its hold, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

"Thank you," Leon whispered as he finally opened his eyes, his voice hoarse with overwhelming emotions.

"Anytime.” You smiled softly at him.

—

You were attractive, considerate, attentive, but sometimes sarcastic — all the more reason to love you. So imagine his surprise when, during one of your deep conversations, you dropped the bombshell: "I'm still a virgin."

Leon's reaction was immediate. "Wait, what?" His eyes widened in disbelief, and he nearly choked on the iced tea Rebecca had made for everyone.

You couldn't help but smirk at his reaction, finding his surprise somewhat amusing. "Yeah, I know, right?" you replied casually, trying to downplay the moment. "Just never felt the rush, I guess."

Leon's expression softened, his initial shock giving way to an understanding. "Well, that's... unexpected," he admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "But hey, it's your choice, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah," you said, taking a sip of the iced tea. You couldn't help but grimace as the sweetness hit your taste buds; Rebecca had gone a bit overboard with the sugar again. “I guess, I just have a hard time trusting people to truly see me, you get it?” you said, revealing a vulnerability that Leon hadn't seen before.

“Just the idea of letting someone see a vulnerable side of you and then, things fall apart, and that person is not in your life anymore... it's terrifying."

Leon nodded thoughtfully, the flicker of a reassuring smile appearing on his lips. "I get it," he responded softly, his eyes reflecting understanding.

"It's hard to open up when you've been hurt before. But not everyone is the same, you know? And sometimes, taking that risk can lead to something beautiful."

"Yeah, but I’m not ready to take that risk," you pondered, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Leon leaned forward, his expression gentle. "That's okay," he said. "It's all about timing, and when you're ready, you'll know. Until then, just focus on being true to yourself." If the old Leon heard this, he would cringe in disgust at how poetic he has become.

“Aw, look at you, Mr. Wise man,” you teased, playfully punching his shoulder.

“Hey, I have experience, okay,” he chuckled, offering a playful wink. "Life's full of surprises, and you never know when the right person might come along." Leon thought to himself, hoping silently that he could be that person for you.

To be your person — it was a dream he cherished deeply. He already felt privileged enough to see you with your dishevelled hair every morning, to enjoy the breakfasts you made, to hear you humming to yourself as you cleaned the apartment, and to witness all the little quirks that made you... you.

Like the way you always insisted on starting your day with a cup of hot warm water because of its health benefits. Or how you had a habit of tapping your fingers on any surface whenever you were anxious. The way you collect little trinkets and gift them to others because they reminded you of them, or how you could never resist stopping to take pictures of the sky when it looked especially pretty. The way you scrunch your nose when you laugh, and how you always double-knot your shoelaces because "you can't be too careful,” even though they somehow always come undone, so he has to tie them for you again — cue to Rebecca and Chris giggling quietly at the back.

“Yeah, who knows?” you replied with a smile, stopping him from his daydreaming state.

Leon looked into your eyes, a gentle warmth spreading through his chest. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you at that moment. Your smiles softened, and a comfortable silence settled between you. Time felt like it slowed down as you both gazed at each other, the unspoken words and hidden shared feelings hanging in the air.

However, the moment was cut short when cock-block Chris slid the balcony doors open, surprising you guys.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Chris said, his voice breaking the momentary silence. "But I thought you might want to join us for board games. Rebecca's been bugging me to drag you both inside.”

You chuckled at Chris's interruption. "Sure, sounds like fun," you replied, shooting a playful glance at Leon.

Leon grinned in response, a twinkle in his eye as he nodded in agreement. "Let's go then," he said, rising from his seat and motioning for you to follow.

“Can’t wait to beat you in Monopoly,” you added with a mischievous grin, earning a playful scoff from Leon.

“Dream on,” Leon replied with a playful smirk, grabbing both his and your drink before heading back inside.

“Hey, we know Rebecca is the master of Monopoly,” Chris chimed in.

"Yeah, you’re right, she always bankrupts us within the first hour," you agreed with a laugh.

"Alright, let's see if we can finally overthrow the reigning champion," Leon said with determination, leading the way back inside.

—

You should have been spending your weekend with friends, but alas, the call of assignments beckoned you to spend the week in your room. Your fingers moved on autopilot as you typed away on your laptop, nearing the end of your essay. All that remained were the conclusion and the references.

This was the second time you had to redo this assignment. Your professor, Dr. Wesker, critiqued it during the tutorial, and it fell short of his expectations, so you had to incorporate the points you had missed. You made a mental note to give him three stars in the end-of-semester review – that being generous — and to punch Chris because he said Wesker’s class was easy. No, it was not; Wesker made sure to run the class like the Navy.

As the evening turned into night, you fueled your essay-writing spree with a touch of spite. The anticipation of going to the new jazz bar in your area with your friends was the added motivation. Empty instant coffee cans littered your desk, proving your determination. In the apartment, it was just you and Leon; Chris was visiting his sister, Claire, while Rebecca was out on a date with Billy. Helping Rebecca get ready had only made you more jealous of her evening out. Ever the sweetheart, she noticed you were down and promised to bring back treats for you as a reward.

The apartment felt unusually quiet, with only the hum of your laptop and the distant sounds of city life filtering through the windows. The silence was a stark reminder of the fun you were missing out on. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing Leon was just in the other room, a silent presence that somehow made the tedious task of essay writing a bit more bearable.

However, the universe was not on your side as your old laptop finally decided to give up on you. Despite all your efforts — charging, troubleshooting, and pleading — it refused to turn back on. "No, no, no, no!" you exclaimed, punctuating each word with a frustrated slam of your hand against the desk. Scratch that, Dr. Wesker is getting only one star and a long paragraph in the comment section.

Hearing the commotion from Leon’s bedroom, he paused his game and rushed into your room. "What happened?!" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You looked at him with tears streaming down your face. "My laptop won't open," you said.

His face softened as he approached you. "I'm assuming you've tried everything," he remarked.

"Yes!" you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice.

"Okay, okay, calm down," Leon reassured you, his tone soothing. "What did you use to do your assignment on?" he inquired, rolling your chair closer to him and kneeling down in front of you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Google Docs," you replied.

He nodded reassuringly. "Okay, they have an auto-save feature, so your work is still there. In the meantime, you can use mine." Leon wiped away your tears with his thumb. "I know a guy who can fix your laptop, so you don't have to worry."

Leon's comforting touch eased your tension slightly. "Thanks," you said, your voice wavering with emotion. "I'm sorry for lashing out. It's just….it’s been a stressful week."

He offered you a sympathetic smile. "No need to apologise," he said softly. "We all have our moments.”

"You're too good for me," you whispered, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

Leon's sympathetic expression softened further as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Hey, don't say that," he replied earnestly. "You're amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. And if you ever need someone to talk to or help you through tough times, I'm here for you, always.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you said softly as you wiped the remaining tears away.

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the sound of the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Then, you hesitated before speaking again.

"Leon... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we're friends, but... lately, I've been feeling something more. I can't shake this feeling that there's something between us, something deeper?"

Leon's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't interrupt as you continued.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," you said, the words tumbling out in a rush as you fidget with your fingers, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I just needed to get it off my chest."

For a moment, there was only silence as Leon processed your words. Then, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, stopping you from fidgeting. On the inside, he was literally jumping up and down and screaming internally. His heart raced with excitement and joy, but he kept his composure, squeezing your hand gently to convey his feelings.

“I... I've been feeling the same way," he admitted quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "I didn't know if you felt the same, but… I've been wanting to tell you how I feel for a while now." His hands felt warm against your cold ones, a reassuring touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

"But are you sure you want to be with someone like me? I’m a bit damaged,” he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of insecurity. As you shared a tender gaze, his vulnerability spilled out.

"At the same time… I want to be with you. You keep me grounded, and every day I feel like I'm becoming a better version of myself because of you. But I don’t want to burden you with my baggage."

Your heart swelled with affection as you reached out to cup his face, gently wiping away the traces of doubt etched there. "Leon, I see you, all of you, and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Being damaged doesn’t make you any less worthy of love and happiness. We all have our scars and struggles. What matters is that you’re taking steps to heal, to become the best version of yourself. And I want to be there for you, every step of the way.”

At that moment, Leon knew he couldn't let his fears hold him back any longer.

Leon’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to stand still as he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a passionate heartfelt kiss. His hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to be apart.

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he couldn’t put into words— the love, the gratitude, the desire. His lips moved against yours with fervent need, and as you responded, you could feel the weight of his insecurities lifting, replaced by the warmth of your mutual affection.

Breaking the kiss, Leon scooped you up from your chair with ease, his arms strong and secure around you. He carried you to your bed and gently laid you down, his gaze never leaving yours. The tenderness in his eyes spoke volumes as he caressed your face.

"You mean everything to me, and I want to be the one you can always rely on." He leaned in for another kiss, sealing his promise with the warmth of his embrace. “Just how I can rely on you.”

When Leon's words settled in, you felt a rush of emotion swell in your chest. You reached up, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your touch and moving down to his neck where his moles were. The tenderness in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you could see the sincerity behind every word he had spoken.

Leon let out a gasp as your fingers continued their gentle exploration, the touch feeling soft and human against his skin. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Letting out a sigh of contentment, he buried his face against your neck, inhaling your familiar scent—the comforting mix of laundry detergent and coffee, so wonderfully homey.

“God, you don’t know how much you've softened me.” He chuckled softly, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

You couldn't help but tease him, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, is that so?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. "Big, tough Leon going all soft on me?"

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a grin. "Yeah, you have that effect on me," he admitted. "Never thought I'd be saying that."

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. "Well, I kind of like this softer side of you," you teased, your eyes sparkling. "Makes me feel special."

"You are special," Leon whispered, his expression turning serious. "More than you know."

“Leon…I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady but your heart racing.

“Ready for what, sweetheart?” he asked, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally. He liked how it felt, unlike the generic terms, ‘Babe’ and ‘Baby’ he had used for his past flings when he didn’t bother to remember their names.

“Ready… for you to take my virginity.”

Leon’s eyes widened slightly before he softened, his expression filled with tenderness. "Oh… you're so precious. Not now, okay? I want to take you out on a date first."

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted gently. “I can make you feel good without taking it…do you trust me?”

“I do,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth.

“Then just relax," he said softly. "I’m here, and I’ll gladly help you release your stress.”

Without another word, Leon closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate, desperate kiss — a culmination of months of longing and pent-up desire. All your worries and stress melted away as you sought solace in each other’s embrace.

As the kiss deepened, Leon’s hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer with a strong need to please you. The hunger and longing that had built up over the months drove you both, igniting a fire that burned with an intensity neither of you had ever felt before.

Leon’s fingers deftly found the hem of your sweater, slowly lifting it up and over your head. As your bare skin met the cool air, a wave of shyness washed over you. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself.

Leon paused, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and gentle reassurance. He reached out, his hands gently removing yours from your chest. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. “You’re beautiful, and I want to see all of you.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, and you felt your body relax under his touch, trusting him completely.

“Leon…”

With a reassuring smile, Leon stepped back slightly and grasped the hem of his own shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulled it over his head, revealing the defined lines of his chest, the faint scars that marked his skin, and the tantalising happy trail leading down from his naval.

“See? Nothing to be shy about.” Leon had come so far, enduring countless battles, to reach this moment of vulnerability and softness with you.

You nodded, your cheeks flushing at the sight of his happy trail peeking through his sweatpants. His lips, slightly swollen from your shared kisses, only added to the heat coursing through you. The mere thought of kissing him had you feeling an ache between your legs — maybe those cringy scenes in films about virgin sex aren’t so fake after all. As you squeezed your thighs together unconsciously, he chuckled softly and gently pulled them apart.

"You okay there?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

You laughed nervously, trying to mask your embarrassment. "Yeah, just... overwhelmed, I guess."

Leon's chuckle deepened. "I'd say that's a good sign," he teased, his fingers tracing a soothing pattern on your thigh. "But let's take it slow, okay?"

Leon's fingers trailed along the curve of your thigh, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. "Have you ever... touched yourself before?" he asked softly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, the sensation of his touch combined with the intimacy of his inquiry making your heart race. "Um, well... yeah," you replied hesitantly, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Leon's touch became even more tender, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he leaned in closer. "Tell me about it," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to know everything."

“I... I just use my fingers,” you confessed, feeling a little embarrassed by the simplicity of your answer. You found yourself rambling about the prices of sex toys and how impractical they seemed, but Leon's attention was elsewhere as he trailed his fingers down to your clothed heat.

With unabashed hunger, he traced his fingertips over the fabric shielding your wetness, sending shivers through you. He moved lower, his mouth finding your inner thighs, licking and biting gently, his breath hot against your skin.

As you continued to ramble with hitched breaths, Leon nodded along, occasionally responding with a thoughtful "hmm" here and there. His lips pressed against your clothed mound and his tongue piercing tracing circles over the fabric. Each teasing lick and swirling motion sent shivers coursing through your body.

“Leon, fuck,” you moaned, bucking your hips toward his face.

His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he slid down your underwear, revealing your glistening folds. His tongue darted out, flicking against your swollen clit while his hands moved to your hips, holding you in place.

Leon savoured the taste of your arousal, relishing how you quivered beneath him, desperate for more. His lips closed around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue worked in skilled motions. As your moans filled the room, he intensified his assault, his tongue delving deeper and applying more pressure.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your slick folds, his voice filled with possessiveness. “My special sweetheart.” With a playful yet firm touch, he lightly slapped your clit, eliciting a gasp from you.

Your breath hitched at Leon's possessive words and instinctively, wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him closer and squeezing them together in response. The sensation of his tongue and lips working so intimately against you, combined with the pressure of your thighs around him, heightened the intensity of your pleasure.

“Leon!” you babbled his name like a prayer as he worked his tongue on you. Each flick and swirl of his tongue made you tremble, the overwhelming sensation almost too much to bear. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, as you surrendered to him.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, Leon started to grind himself against the mattress. His sweatpants strained against his growing erection. He could feel the dampness of his pre-cum soaking through the fabric, each grind intensifying the need coursing through him. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his pants, desperate for release as he focused on bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

Your breathing grew ragged, and you could feel the tightening coil of release building within you. Instinctively, your hands flew to his head, gripping his hair tightly as you arched your back, your body seeking more of his touch. The sharp tug made Leon grunt, a deep, guttural sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh.

Despite the pain, he refused to relent, his determination evident in the way he continued to devour you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as his tongue and lips worked with relentless precision, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy, refusing to let you go.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, you surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal bliss. Leon held you through it all, refusing to let you go until you were utterly undone beneath him, lost in the euphoria of the moment.

As you lay there, panting and trembling, Leon parted from your cunt, his chin and lips glistening with your release. He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes, before tenderly kissing your clit. "You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I could devour you all night."

Your cheeks heated up due to his remarks, a turbulent rush of feelings that filled your senses with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Under the intensity of his gaze, you quivered, feeling another desire surge through you again.

Leon leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours as he spat on your cunt, the warm liquid mixing with your own arousal. He clumsily peeled off his sweatpants, revealing his hard, straining cock. He positioned himself between your legs, pushing your thighs together to create a tight, plush space.

With a low groan, Leon began to stroke himself between your thighs, the friction against your slick skin sending jolts of pleasure through him. Each thrust caused his piercing to occasionally bump against your clit, sending thrilling shocks through your body and making you gasp with the unexpected sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, his eyes fixated on the scandalous sight before him — the view of his reddened and swollen tip emerging from the clutch of your thighs.

You were certain Leon would leave bruises on your thighs from the way he was gripping them. “I’m gonna... gonna—shit,” Leon whimpered, quickening his pace. His thrusts became urgent and forceful, driven by an insatiable hunger for release. The air was filled with the sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin. He leaned over you, shifting into a mating press with your legs squished to your chest and his balls slapping against your ass.

With a few more thrusts, Leon succumbed to the pleasure, his body tensing as he spilt himself between your thighs and stomach. Waves of ecstasy washed over him, and he continued to move, riding out his orgasm with a mix of intense relief and satisfaction. His body trembled with aftershocks and his breathing erratic as he slowly descended from the high.

As Leon collapsed beside you, panting and spent, he realised that you hadn't come for the second time. He then shifted his position, propping himself up on one elbow as he glanced down at your flushed form. Seeing the need still evident in your eyes, he gently brushed his fingers over your slick folds, seeking out your swollen clit.

"Let me take care of you again," he cooed as he began to rub gentle circles over your sensitive bud. With each stroke, he felt your body respond, the tension building once more as you whimpered and writhed beneath his touch.

Leon focused entirely on bringing you to the peak of pleasure, his movements deliberate and precise as he pushed you closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, and your hips bucked against his hand, signalling how near you were to release. With a shuddering gasp, you finally reached your climax. Leon’s grip was steady as you trembled beneath him, lost in the overwhelming euphoria.

He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. "I'll be right back," he whispered, leaving the room momentarily to grab a warm, damp towel. Returning swiftly, he carefully wiped away the sweat and traces of cum from your skin.

Once he finished, he picked up your discarded sweater from the floor and slipped it over your shoulders, ensuring you were comfortable. You nestled into its warmth as Leon retrieved his own sweatpants and pulled them on.

Returning to your side, he asked softly, "Feeling better?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you snuggled closer to him. "Yeah, much better. Thanks for taking care of me."

He smiled back, his eyes filled with affection, and gently massaged the nape of your neck. "How was the aftercare? It's my first time doing it."

You chuckled softly. "Honestly, I can't say much about it since I don't have any experience either."

Leon laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess we're both new at this. Maybe I should include 'aftercare specialist' on my résumé."

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, but only if I get to be your reference."

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Deal."

Pics are from pinterest and edited by: @roseglazedlens

Dividers by: @chachachannah

#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy

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retiredteabag · 26 days ago

Text

An Uninformed Narrative

Synopsis: You had lived in Stardew Valley for a year before you met the hunter from the adventures guild, Sukuna Itadori. It did not take long for him to catch your attention but you couldn't help feeling as if his affection resided anywhere but you.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

This is a Sukuna stardew valley au, heavily inspired by @tearzintheclub's similar series with butcher!sukuna, I highly recommend reading their work, they are super kind and were a big motivation for me to make this!

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

You had been dying for a decade before coming to the valley, still, unmercifully, alive. The bitter years you spent milling away on a computer, endless days blurring onto the next. A monotonous cycle of tireless work for a corporation that left you unfulfilled, complacent, and depressed. Holed up in a city you did not even like.

It was corrosive, only now, a year later, could you look back and realize that life didn't begin for you until you moved to your grandfather's farm.

It had been hard work. You knew it would be. Still, the labor it took to keep up with crops and farm animals had been more than you anticipated. But you had friends now, and goals. And that was more valuable than anything.

One year ago, when you came to the valley, romance was quite possibly the last thing occupying your mind. Only now, being able to comfortably settle into your home, could you allow yourself to think about things other than the prosperity of your land and the health of your animals.

That brings us to now.

You had read books about the Stardew Valley mines back in the mountains north of town. Harvey, the village doctor, had warned you of its treacherous depths. Having focused most of your efforts on farm/house maintenance, you had not traversed into dangerous territory beyond upgrading your tools and acquiring bug meat.

This is why, after a whole year of living in the valley, you were surprised to receive a notice in your mailbox from "The Adventurers Guild", an initiation of sorts, requesting you to slay 10 slimes to be granted entry.

You had thought about it all evening. By the next morning, you felt up for the challenge. After taking care of the chores you left you made your way up past the carpenter's shop, dropped off a fish you caught the night before to your friend Linus, and entered the mines.

It had been scary but you protected yourself well and acquired some gems and geodes to show for it. It was late when you made the trek home, but you were determined to enter the adventurers guild the next day.

It had been a delight to meet Gil and Marlon, the two men who ran the guild. They sold weapons and protective gear, offered rewards for monster slaying, and purchased monster loot. Still having some on you, you traded them in for the cash. With a smile on your face, you decided to go into town to buy some icecream for Yuuji, Jas, and Vincent.

Penny, the town's teacher, had the kids in the museum for lessons until 2 PM, so you traveled quickly to meet them in time.

Penny was always a delight. Kind to everyone, even if they did not deserve it. She was so good with the kids as well, and dedicated much of her time to their education.

You had met Penny just a few days after moving to the town at the local flower shop in the Cidersap Forest. You had learned she was quite fond of Poppy flowers and the owner of the little place, Jin Itadori, was unbelievably generous, always interested in hearing about your farm, and always willing to give out a flower or two.

Yuuji, being the florist's son and Penny's student, became a quick friend of yours and always wanted to talk whenever you came by the shop. Of course, you never minded and listened intently whenever the boy felt like sharing a fun fact about the flora in his home.

Time passed with the changing of the seasons and it wasn't long before fall was upon you.

Ever since entering the mines and joining the Adventures guild, you have been thinking about the quests Marlon and Gil have sent you on. Though it is dangerous, scouring the mines for the flesh of monsters, it brings you a thrill to know you are doing something good for the community.

A post had gone up on the community board in town about collecting bat wings and bringing the population down to a manageable level the other day, and in your spare time, you had been working on completing the quest.

It was late one night when you began to make your way back up to the mountains from the mine's elevator, you had quite the collection and enough time to sell it at the Guild before making your way home.

"You've been keepin' busy." Marlon greeted you as the wind pushed the door open along with your arm.

You smile at the man, unloading the backpack of your finds. "Well there's always something to do around here." you reply.

"True as the day is long...." Gil rocked back and forth in his chair, pretending to hear your conversation.

"I must say I'm glad to have you 'round. The quest board in town seems to be worked through much faster now." Marlon takes the post you handed him and the 200 bat wings, he was just about to hand you the payment when the door to the Guild swung open.

The hinges seemed to rattle with the shock of the large man's blow of it. He's huffing, yanking a balaclava up and over his face.

He has thick, pink hair and bright red eyes, he's enormous, having to duck just a bit so as not to hit his head on the door frame.

You looked at him, a bit shocked at his garish entrance. He looks so familiar, but his face is covered in tattoos. A unique style you've never seen before, certainly not in Stardew Valley

Despite being at the counter yourself, the lumbering man strides right up next to you, a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. And just then, you have a thought.

Was he doing town board requests too? He was clearly not from the village, you would have met him by now. But Marlon does not spare him much of a glace, even when a stack of bones and a collection of rings is placed on his counter.

"Those damn haunted skulls are somethin' else." The man looks at Marlon with a gaze of distaste but the Guild leader just laughs. The large man doesn't look at you once.

Despite the chill of fall present in the air, he has sweat glistening on his exposed neck, he runs a hand through his hair and you can't help but notice how handsome this man is. The only thing, who was he? And why was he monster hunting in the Valley's mines?

"You got a problem?" Shocked from your thoughts, you look up. You hadn't meant to stare but upon his antagonized question your eyes bulge a bit.

"No! No, no, sorry..." You turn away, collecting the gold Marlon left out for you, ready to turn and leave when the man behind the counter made a gesture with his hand.

He called your name, "This is Sukuna, likely haven't met em' have ya? He's real reserved and all."

So he lives here? How could that be? "Oh, it's nice to meet you!" You go to shake his hand but he just looks you up and down, effectively dissuading that desire.

"So you're the rookie taking all the board requests in town, hmm?" He looks so domineering, still, even having just met him, you can reasonably assume that's just what his face looks like.

You shuffle where you stand, "Er... maybe so, yes... I'm sorry, I didn't know that was your area..." You wave your hand to the array of loot he had seemingly just acquired. He scoffs.

Marlon looks to you, "Sukuna is our most tenured monster hunter-"

Gil interjects from his rocking chair, "If ever there's a board request this here man can't handle, I know hell's right about frozen over."

The man before them did not crack a smile. A shiver went down your spine.

"I see, well, I live on the farm behind the Cidersap Forest-"

He cuts you off, looking almost annoyed, "I know who you are."

Oh.

Okay...

"Gotcha, sorry, well... it was nice meeting you." Sukuna stares at you for a moment before turning back to the Adventurers Guild leaders.

The awkwardness of the moment was painful, you already know youll be obsessing over this first impression for the next month or so and your shaking leg is telling you it is time to escape the embaressment before this man shuts down any more small talk.

You wonder if perhaps Sukuna is upset with you for "taking his job". Or maybe he had a bad day. If he really had been hunting Haunted Skulls, he had probably been dangerously deep in the mines.

Even though his gaze had been piercing, his frown looked permanent, and his tattoos gave off a highly intimidating look. You could tell there had been no malice behind his demeanor. And that, would be a small comfort as you mulled your way through the darkness.

You spent the whole walk home thinking about the large man. You had been everywhere in Stardew Valley yet had never met him.

He must live out of town, you thought as you checked the weather for tomorrow.

Rain. That meant another day in the mines. You needed an upgrade on your equipment if you were going to continue supplying for your growing crops' demands. That meant plunging deeper into the depths of the mine.

Sleep pulled at you even still, just as your eyes fell shut the memory of the pink-haired man popped back up into your brain.

His shirt stuck nauseatingly to his toned chest, his neck glimmering in the firelight of the guild, and those eyes. The red, sharp eyes he had looked you up and down with.

"I know who you are."

It was a small town. Even if you were from the outskirts. It was a shame though... having not met the man before... he certainly seemed interesting.

You shook the man from your thoughts as your dog climbed into the bed and the two of you began to doze off.

Unknown to you, a long and unexpected day awaited you at dawn.

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girlgenius1111 · 3 months ago

Text

turbulence

barça!teen reader you hate flying, and you hate planes. normally, you manage a fair amount of control over your anxiety, but when you run out of your anxiety medication just before leaving for the preseason games in the US, you lose control, and have no choice but to turn to your teammates for help.

Air travel was just part of your job. It was something you’d never quite gotten used to, but also not something you made a big deal about. At least, not normally.

You had your plane routine; take your anxiety medication, sleep the whole flight if you could, and at the very least, close your eyes all through take off and landing. It was common knowledge among the team that you fell asleep very easily; a bus ride longer than 20 minutes, and you were out cold. No one really batted an eye, then, when you pulled your eyeshades over your face almost as soon as you got in your seat on the plane. However, when one of the steps of your routine failed, the rest of it toppled over like a set of dominos.

A 12.5 hour flight was bad enough to begin with. It wasn’t possible to sleep the whole time, but you’d downloaded a few movies and brought a book with you, so there were suitable distractions. It was manageable, though not ideal.

Until you checked the little pill bottle just before you left for the airport, and realized you were out of your anxiety medication. How it had slipped your mind to refill the bottle after the last flight you’d taken was beyond you, but you genuinely didn’t recall running out.

There was nothing you could do. There wasn’t time to refill your prescription, you had to leave to meet the team in 5 minutes. You stood frozen for a moment, the prospect of not just one flight, not two, but three entire long flights completely unmedicated quickly sending you into a spiral.

Alexia’s voice broke you out of your stupor.

“Chica! It’s time to go!”

Any other day, you would have been annoyed that your captain used her key to let herself in, but today you didn’t have it in you. You were resigned to your fate, grabbing your bag and taking a deep breath, before you headed out to the living room.

Alexia was waiting impatiently, though she grinned when she saw you. “Ready?!”

You tried to match her energy, though her smile faltered, and you were sure you failed. “Yeah! Let’s go!”

The blonde studied you as you walked down to her car with her, and you tried to act as normally as you could, even though internally, you were freaking out. You and Alexia lived in the same building, which was one of the conditions for living alone at 18 that the club had set. She checked on you constantly, showing up unannounced to drag you to dinner at her apartment, or bringing you a protein smoothie that she’d just happened to make extra of. Alexia took her job of watching out for you very seriously, and you couldn’t imagine how much more intense she would be if she found out how bad your anxiety could get.

It didn’t seem like something a professional footballer should have, in your head, so you pretended you didn’t have it. You took your medication, you went to therapy, and you dealt with it all yourself. You didn’t keep many things from Alexia, as she’d quickly become like an older sister to you, but this one thing you just couldn’t bring yourself to admit. No matter how much you wanted to break down and tell her everything you just… couldn’t.

You could feel her worry growing as you got on the bus and bypassed your friends to sit by yourself. They all exchange looks, knowing you to normally match their hyperness and excitement. The seat Vicky was saving for you remained empty; she was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement, and Alexia expected the same behavior out of you. Today, though, you just sunk into an empty row and pulled out your phone.

While Alexia watched you carefully from the front of the bus, you were too busy to notice. You were crafting a text to your therapist, hoping for her to give you some advice for the plane ride. There were only around two hours until take off, and you could feel your nerves grow and grow as you neared the airport.

All through security, the whole way to the gate, and in line to board the plane, you were so quiet and so unlike yourself. It drew the attention of several of your teammates, in fact, until Irene appeared next to you, a very motherly worry on her face.

“Are you alright? You’ve been acting strange today. You haven’t tried to trip Mapi even once.” Irene asked quietly. The teammates near you in line grew a bit quieter, curious as to what your issue was.

Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, and still not feeling particularly like sharing the issue, you just shrugged. “I didn’t sleep well. Just tired.” You lied, conveniently yawning just after you finished talking. It was an anxiety thing, actually, a weird thing you did more often when you were anxious. Of course, no one else knew that.

They all relaxed slightly at your response, especially Alexia, confident that they’d discovered the problem, and it wasn’t much to worry about. As you stepped onto the plane, though, you knew the opposite to be true. There was plenty to be worried about.

“Chica?” Pina asked, realizing you hadn’t been listening to her long, very drawn out story of the mischief her and her sister had gotten into during her last visit.

You hummed quietly, eyes fixed out the window. As a general rule, you tried not to look out the window when you were in the air. It never made you feel anything but panic. You were running out of coping mechanisms that worked, though, and in a last ditch effort to avoid a complete panic attack, you looked out the window. You thought, maybe, it would reassure you to see the plane moving steadily through the air.

It didn’t. Instead, you felt your stomach plummet, to what felt like the earth underneath you. The ground was so very far away. It was likely your imagination, but it felt as though the plane dropped slightly, and you clutched at the arms of your seat, sitting back rigidly in your chair. Eyes shut, inhaling as much as you could through your nose, and out through your mouth.

You felt Claudia’s hand tapping on yours, vaguely heard her voice repeating your name. Pina was the last of your worries, though, and any will you had remaining to keep your embarrassing fear a secret had flown out the window, along with the last of your composure. You were trapped in your head, anxiety swirling around until you couldn’t tell up from down, didn’t know anything except for the fact that you were terrified.

Claudia looked around in panic, having watched you go from somewhat stressed to completely out of it in just a few seconds. She had been trying to distract you from whatever had you acting so odd, but it clearly hadn’t worked. She caught Mapi’s eye, who was sitting next to Ingrid across the aisle. The centerback immediately sat up at the concerned look on the forward’s face.

Gently, Mapi shifted Ingrid’s head off her shoulder where it was resting as the Norwegian slept, and leaned across the aisle, towards Claudia.

“You okay, Pina?” Mapi inquired, resting a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. She didn’t really spare you a glance, assuming that you were out cold, as you normally were on flights.

“Something is wrong, I don’t know what happened.” Claudia said quietly, nodding her head over to you. Mapi looked closer, noticing for the first time how labored your breathing was, how tight your eyes were shut, how hard you gripped the arms of your seat. She’d never seen you like this before, and it scared her.

“Up, Pina.” The Spaniard instructed, sliding into the younger girl’s seat. Pina took Mapi’s old seat, watching anxiously as the older woman placed a hand on your arm.

“Cariño?” Mapi wondered quietly. Your eyes remained shut, your head shaking side to side just slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Maybe you should have told your teammates about your fear of flying. If not right at the beginning, definitely before you tried to take this painfully long flight unmedicated. Now, it was too late. You’d lost completely the ability to speak, not even really able to focus fully on Mapi talking to you. You were stuck, completely out of your depth and with no way to calm yourself down. The only thing that could help was to be safely back on solid ground, and there was simply no way to make that happen right now.

Before Mapi could say another word, a hand fell on her shoulder, tapping impatiently. She looked up, finding her captain looking down at her with a frown on her face.

“Mapi, go back to your seat. You can’t switch seats on an airplane.” Alexia whisper-yelled, clearly grumpy at having to get out of her seat to scold her friend. Surely, she’d made that rule up, but she didn’t have it in her to deal with your and Mapi’s antics, especially not on such a long flight.

Mapi looked at her nervously, though, gesturing back towards you. “Something’s wrong.”

Almost instantly after looking at you, Alexia’s face went from grumpy to dead serious, able to recognize that you were very much not okay. “Up, Mapi.” Alexia instructed, grabbing the defender's arm and hauling her out of her seat. Mapi grumbled indignantly, before she did the same thing to Pina, sending the young forward back to the captain’s empty seat.

Sitting down beside you, your captain tried not to panic herself at the state you were in.

Alexia had seen you upset before, of course she had. Once, you’d knocked on her door in tears after reading some particularly cruel comments about yourself online. Another time, she’d come over to invite you to dinner only to find you curled up on the couch, desperately missing home. When Mapi took her teasing too far, or you sustained even a minor knock during a match, Alexia was always right there to pick you up and help you dust yourself off. She was reliable, she was safe, and she knew how to help you.

Except now, she didn’t. She called your name a few times, but you didn’t react.

For your part, you had no idea who was sitting next to you. It was all you could do to stay planted in your seat, and not go charging up the aisle and into the cockpit to beg the pilot to land. Logically, you knew how ridiculous that was, but your ability to be logical was slipping. Quickly.

Your lungs burned as you hyperventilated, chest pounding and ears ringing. Your body was begging for some kind of relief, anything to get your nervous system to stop overworking itself, even for just a minute. You needed help, you realized. Help you couldn’t give yourself. Forcing your eyes open, you looked to where Pina had been sitting, or had that been Mapi? Either way, you found Alexia staring back at you, her lips moving, but no sound reaching your ears.

“Chiqui, what are you feeling? Are you sick?” Alexia asked gently, reaching across the divider to pull your hand into hers. It was clammy and shaking in her grip, only reinforcing Alexia’s assumption that you were ill. “It’s okay if you feel unwell, just tell me. I can try to help.”

Never in your life had you regretted something as much as you regretted not telling Alexia about your anxiety. Not only did she not know what the issue was, but even if you communicated it to her, you thought it to be terribly unlikely that she’d be able to help at all.

“Come on, talk to me.” Alexia encouraged. If you’d had the ability to do so, you would have shouted at her that you couldn’t talk, obviously. You couldn’t even breathe. Instead, you dug your nails into the palm of your free hand, and forced yourself to suck in a breath.

“Not sick. Anxiety.” You choked out. There was terror written in your voice, so much so that Alexia felt a sharp pang of fear go through her. Just then, the aircraft jolted slightly. It could barely be called turbulence, so minimal that most of the people around you hadn’t even blinked. Your grip had tightened painfully around Alexia’s hand, and understanding dawned across her face.

That was all she needed, and thank god, because you were seconds away from asking the flight attendant for a parachute and taking matters into your own hands.

“Okay, okay. I’ve got you.” Alexia brought your shaky palm to her chest, pressing it right over her heart, before she took a ridiculously exaggerated breath. “Like that, big breath. All you have to do is think about breathing.”

You tried, inhaling and exhaling so quickly you weren’t even sure any oxygen had entered your lungs. Your vision started to go dark around the edges, and you let out a dry sob, clutching even tighter to Alexia’s hand.

“No, no, you’re okay. Stay here with me.” Alexia soothed. She let your hand fall from her chest, instead shoving the armrest in between you both up and out of the way. Scooting closer, she pulled you into her arms and squeezed.

At first, it was suffocating. You were in a plane, an enclosed space to begin with, and you didn’t need that space shrinking any more. You squirmed, trying to escape her grasp, but Alexia held tighter.

“I’ve got you. Focus on the pressure of my arms around you, feel me breathe. Try to match it. You’re okay, cariño. Everything is okay. ”

Not really by choice, your body collapsed against your captain, and you tried to do as she’d instructed. You focused on her, the tight hold she had on you. It felt safe, if you thought about it hard enough.

Safe, not suffocating.

Her chin rested on your head, her hand rubbing up and down your arm. You could feel her every breath with the way she was holding you, and unconsciously, you began to match it.

You gasped in breath after breath in time with the rise and fall of Alexia’s chest. Slower, slower, and slower still until your lungs no longer burned.

In and out. In and out.

Until your fingers and toes stopped tingling, and your muscles began to relax.

Your ears stopped ringing, and you could hear again. The white noise of the plane engine was loud, but you could still hear the crinkle of Irene’s water bottle, and a low voice from somewhere in front of you asking if everything was okay.

Most of all, you could hear Alexia. Still held securely in her arms, she kept up a running dialogue, not allowing herself to fall silent for even a second.

“There you go, nena. You’re going so well. We’re almost there, and we’ll be off this plane, and everything will be okay. You’re safe, you’re okay. Everything is okay.”

It was only now that you’d calmed down a bit more that you could process the past few minutes, or however long the period of time you’d panicked had been. Alexia had known exactly what to do, almost as if she was going through a list in her mind.

She’d tried to get you to listen to her, to breathe. When that hadn’t worked, she’d put pressure around you, hugging you tightly even as you resisted for a moment. She’d stayed calm herself, keeping her breathing and her voice steady. She’d know just what to say, just what to do, and you’d never been more glad for anything in your entire life.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling away from her slightly so you could reach for your water. Alexia beat you to it, unscrewing the cap and handing you the bottle, though you were still shaking slightly. You chugged a few sips, feeling your face grow redder and redder as you realized how much of a scene you’d probably caused.

“Of course.” Alexia replied, taking the bottle once you were done and tucking it back into your bag. She draped an arm across your shoulders, giving you a comforting squeeze. And while you were embarrassed, there wasn’t much fight left in you to shake her off, and honestly, you still really needed a hug.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, this time a stray tear sliding down your cheek. You wiped it away impatiently, wishing that Mapi would stop staring at you from across the aisle, and that Irene would stop turning around to check on you.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.” Alexia dismissed. “You had no control over that happening. It just happens sometimes.”

“Do you have them too?” You wondered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Alexia shook her head, and you felt yourself blush harder. Of course she didn’t.

“No, my sister does though. And a few teammates.”

That last part surprised you. “Really? Teammates?”

“Mhm. Even footballers can have anxiety, cari.” Alexia chuckled, though she frowned when you didn’t laugh with her. “What happened today?”

You found that you couldn’t look her in the eye, shifting out from under her arm and sinking down in your seat. “Panic attack.”

You didn’t need to be looking at her to know that she was giving you a look. “I know that. Why did it happen today? I didn’t even know you had panic attacks.”

Swallowing roughly, you continued to stare at the seat in front of you. “I ran out of my medicine. I normally take it before flights.”

Alexia blinked at you. “Before every flight? And you never told me?”

You could hear the hurt in her tone; she’d gone out of her way to be there for you, to be someone you could trust, and now she felt like she’d failed.

“I wanted to tell you, Ale, I just… I was embarrassed. I shouldn’t be like this, especially not about flying. It’s part of our job. Normally, I have it handled.”

Alexia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Cariño, you don’t need to be embarrassed about this. It’s not your fault, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I wish you’d told me, because you don’t have to handle this all on your own.”

“I know, I know.” You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Alexia shook her head again, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t be sorry, please. Just know I’m here.”

You nodded, letting your head rest on your captain’s shoulder. You felt better, definitely, but anxiety still twisted in your stomach. It was better, though, because you knew you weren’t alone. You were never alone with this team, and never alone with Ale around.

You’d be reminded of this, repeatedly, on the remaining flights around the US. When Mapi threw M&Ms at you across the aisle, trying to see how many you could catch in your mouth. When Irene bought you a stress ball, and Pina made a list of movies she thought you should watch. And when Alexia held your hand through take off and landing, sticking close by you until you were safely back on the ground in Barcelona. A plane ride and your anxiety had nothing on the determination of your captain, and you should have never doubted that.

this is short and i most certainly despise it but it's been a while since i've posted a fic so :) i hope you enjoy and aren't disappointed!

#barcelona femeni x reader #woso one shot #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #barça femeni x reader

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jo-speaks · 2 months ago

Text

PLAY WITH ME

KINKTOBER DAY 1: QUINN HUGHES AND SEX TOYS

IN WHICH..

fem! reader finds a way to get Quinn's attention.

WARNINGS: MDNI!! 18+ READERS ONLY. sex toys (vibrator use), dom!Quinn, fem! masturbation, choking, overstimulation, etc.

note: kinktober day 1!! i know i'm technically five days late, but i hope this makes up for it :) <3

That stupid game.

Ever since he got early access to NHL 25, Quinn had been practically glued to his gaming console, even going as far as buying a monitor in order to move it from the living room to his desk in your shared bedroom. At first, you didn’t think too much of it. He had claimed he just wanted to play while keeping you close, but why he couldn’t have just left it outside was beyond you.

So here you were, laying on the bed, reading a book your friend had recommended, hearing him laugh and yell at Brock and Elias through his headset as they missed an open goal.

“Dude you’re actually ass!” He yelled, causing you to roll your eyes at his volume.

You didn’t want to disturb him, so you just reached over to grab your headphones resting on the bedside table. Slipping them in, you laid back and opened your book yet again. You had unknowingly reached a point in which the book shifted into something a little more spicy. It hadn’t been your intention to read such vulgar, descriptive words, but your eyes simply couldn’t stop shifting from left to right as you imagined the scenario in your head.

Quinn’s full-throated laugh brought you back down to reality once again. Letting out an irritated sigh, a damp feeling between your legs as you set the book down, walking over behind his chair to wrap your arms over his shoulders.

He hummed as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, “Hey, babe. What? No, not you, Petey. Hang on.”

His finger pressed down on a button which you assumed muted his microphone as he shifted the headset behind one ear before he spoke again, “You alright?”

“You’re just really loud. How ‘bout you call it a night, hm?” You mumbled, pressing soft kisses to his neck.

You could feel the rumble in his chest as he let out a soft groan as you began to suck on a sensitive part of his skin. He said nothing, making no effort to stop you, until a moaning sound came through his headphones, effectively ruining the moment.

“Oh! Huggy!” Brock moaned jokingly, Elias’s laughter in the background.

Quinn groaned at the interruption that had caused your lips to part with his neck. You sighed, beginning to walk back to the bed, but your boyfriend quickly grabbed your arm.

He looked up at you, darker eye bags beginning to form under his eyes from the lack of sleep and excessive bright lights entering his eyes twelve out of the twenty-four hours of the day. “I promise just one more game. Then I’m all yours.”

You gave him a smile, not wanting him to sense your desperate need to have him between your legs. He returned the reaction before returning his eyes to the enchanting screen.

“As if.” You mumbled as you refound your comfortable spot on the bed. You didn’t even bother picking up your book again, feeling too hot and bothered to focus on anything else other than the view you had of Quinn’s shirtless figure, his fingers moving quickly against the controller in his hands.

Letting out a soft grumble of frustration, you rolled over in a feeble attempt to calm yourself and let him finish the last round. However, your lack of self-control and increased horniness didn’t allow you to do that.

Instead, you found your hand sliding up the shirt you were wearing. Ideally enough, it was Quinn’s shirt that covered you, so the lingering scent of his body was enough to get you going. You pinched your nipples gently, the cool temperature of your fingers causing them to peak.

The sensation alone was enough to keep you occupied for the next few minutes, but you wanted more.

Quinn had become so entranced by that game that the two of you hadn’t done anything remotely sexual, other than a make out here and there, in over two weeks.

So naturally, the lack of a release had you antsy and impatient. You fought the urge to walk back over, shut off the game, and practically beg him to fuck you. However, you decided to beg him in an even more obvious way.

You peeled your hands away from your body, rolling back over to reach into the bottom drawer. You pulled out the light blue wand you had purchased prior to moving in with Quinn, the necessity of the toy becoming practically non-existent other than when he was on a roadie.

Your eyes shifted back to Quinn, his back turned to you, eyes trained on the screen in front of him. Rolling your eyes yet again, you set the vibrator down on the sheets, sliding your panties off and letting them fall to the ground.

Laying back down, you shot one last glance toward your boyfriend before pressing down on the button, the object in your hand buzzing to life gently. You upped the speed slightly before guiding it in between your thighs.

Your body shifted away from the intense feeling before quickly pulling itself closer like a magnet. A soft moan escaped your lips as you pressed the toy impossibly closer to your core.

As the intensity of the vibrations increased, your volume did too. You muffled your moans, closing your eyes as your forearm came up to give you something to bite down on.

Surprisingly, Quinn’s ears perked up at the faint buzzing he figured was just his console acting up due to overuse. He glanced to the side, noticing the light was indeed flashing, and decided to restart it.

“Give me a second guys, this shit’s being weird.” He announced, cutting the call and restarting the device. He let out a sigh, taking off his headset and setting it down on the desk.

“Hey babe? What did you-” He turned around in his seat, cutting himself off as he drank in the sight in front of him.

Your hips were rocking down onto the toy, trying to get the most use out of it. Your eyes were shut tight as you cried out Quinn’s name, muffled by your hot skin.

He felt frozen, his eyes trailing down your body as it trembled gently at the stimulation. You blinked your eyes open, wanting to look over at your boyfriend, not expecting to catch his sight. Once you did, your arm came down to rest across your torso, knitting your brows together in a silent attempt to get him to come over.

Thankfully, he took the hint. He stood up, walking the short distance to kneel next to the bed. He didn’t lay a hand on you, opting to just watch you instead.

“Quinn,” You began, cutting yourself off with a moan, “Please touch me.”

He smirked, “You want me to touch you?”

You nodded vigorously, seeking out the warmth of his hand or any part of him at this point.

“Cum for me first. And then maybe I’ll consider it.”

A whine escaped your lips before the words did, your mind too foggy to beg for him to at least come onto the bed with you as you chased your release. Quinn simply stayed in place, his self-control being surprisingly strong as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes.

Quinn let out a quiet groan, his hand coming down to palm himself over the cloth of his athletic shorts. You were close enough to the edge of the bed to be able to see his desperate actions, the sight spurring you on even more. His patience grew thin, his cock growing harder and harder as he watched you.

He had enough of waiting.

Your eyes followed his hand as he wrapped it around the wand, clicking the button and effectively turning up the speed. The moan that escaped your mouth could only be described as sinful. Quinn pressed the vibrator harder against your clit, effectively pushing you toward your first orgasm of the night.

His ears were blessed with the volume of the cries of his name that slipped out past your lips, mesmerized at the sight of your open mouth. He couldn’t help himself, his index and middle finger coming up to fill the void. You instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking on them as you came down from your blissful state.

You whined at the vibrations still going on in between your legs, shutting it off and throwing it off to the side as you continued to practically drool all over Quinn’s hand.

“Already fucked out from that stupid little toy aren’t you? Couldn’t even wait for me to finish my game.” He whispered, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and resting them on your abdomen.

“Not like I had much of a choice.” You retorted.

Quinn’s eyes widened, “You’re saying I don’t give you enough attention?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He smacked his lips together, not saying another word before he stripped himself of his remaining clothing, his cock bright, and throbbing for attention.

You couldn’t even get a word out before he turned your body over to the side and thrusted into you swiftly, a guttural moan coming out of both of you. He reached one hand to your neck, his grip making you go dizzy. The other pressing down onto your stomach, the feeling of his length buried deep inside your pussy making you cry out.

“Is this enough for you?” He questioned, groaning as your walls clenched around him.

Words weren’t an option for you at this point, your second orgasm already forming yet again. You shook your head, causing Quinn’s eyes to widen, clearly not expecting that to be your response. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your warm cheeks.

“I’m giving you everything I got and it’s still not enough for you, huh? My greedy girl.” He whispered, the warmth of his breath against your ear causing shivers to run throughout your body.

Your moans rang in his ear as he thrusted into you impossibly quicker, tears slowly spilling out of your eyes due to the immense pleasure. His eyes wandered, thinking of ideas on how to give you more than he was already giving you.

Once his gaze met the abandoned toy sitting next to you, his mind began to spiral with filthy thoughts, some of which he’d have to save for another day.

He reached over, picked it up, and turned it back on. You couldn’t even begin to process why he had removed his hand from your throat until you felt the buzzing against your clit yet again.

You screamed out in pleasure, the overstimulation becoming too much for you. Quinn could feel the vibrations against his cock as he fucked you senseless, the toy doing to him what it was doing to you. He groaned, removing his free hand from your stomach and taking your fingers in between his instead, placing them next to your head.

“Quinn!” You cried, the knot in your stomach quickly beginning to come undone.

He nodded, his eyes shutting tightly, “Hang on, sweet girl. Wait for me.”

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to do that, but you sure as hell were gonna try.

Your grip tightened on your boyfriend’s hand, the other coming up to grip at his now-dampened hair. He let out a whine at the small, unintentional tugs against his scalp, his eyes opening just enough to make eye contact with yours.

“Look at me.” He groaned, his thrusts getting sloppy. “Wanna watch that pretty face when you cum for me.”

He moved the toy around in circles around your clit, causing your orgasm to hit you hard. The waves of ecstasy washed over you as you screamed his name, tears spilling and skin blazing as you came. Quinn whined, letting himself become engulfed in pleasure as well. Thick ropes painted your insides white as he shut off the vibrator, letting it drop into the space next to you.

You felt the weight of him come down onto you, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The only sound in the room being the heavy gasps of air from the both of you. He kissed your skin softly, sucking a small love bite as you caught your breath.

“Did that make up for it? Or do I have to keep saying I’m sorry for ignoring you for that stupid game?” He teased, causing a small, broken, laugh to come from you.

You squeezed his hand, “I don’t know. Might have to keep making it up to me.”

Quinn smiled against you, his kisses trailing down from the nape of your neck, all the way down your upper body until he reached your thighs.

“I can make it up to you as many times as you want.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #quinn hughes smut #vancouver canucks #jo’s kinktober series

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onsomenewsht · 4 months ago

Text

De pelearnos y odiarnos y amarnos después

About when she was everything for you, but you were just one more fan

《 shout out to @p0orbaby for putting up with this shit, making it less shitty and being the only reason Alexia has feelings in the first place

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +3.7k

》 player [noun]: 1. a person who participates in or is skilled at some game or sport; 3. an actor: a theatrical performer, a person who plays parts on the stage; 5. a person who engages in casual and indiscriminate sexual relationships.

Barcelona is not that big of a city if you stop and think about it.

Especially when you end up in the same places with the same people, especially when your circle of family and friends is pretty tight. Especially when you work in a world as small as the women’s football one.

You and Alexia Putellas crossed paths a lot of times before coming up with the brilliant idea of braiding and twisting your lives together.

And it was fun.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

“I got your coffee”

“Oh, you’re still here”

The smile on your face doesn’t falter, even if her words will ricochet in your mind for a long time, so you keep sipping your coffee and mindlessly scrolling through your phone after booking your ride back home.

It’s quite early, you know she has training in an hour, but the late-night activities you indulged in must have tired the Catalan more than she expected as you woke up before her.

Usually, you don’t even find her in the apartment when you drift out of sleep, slowly collecting your things and leaving the empty place with a pair of keys to hide under a plant vase.

“I had time to go to the cafeteria around the corner, you slept through your first alarm”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”, it’s not really a question as she sprints up to the bathroom.

It’s known Alexia is quite strict with her routine and her absolute devotion to her passion and profession, you’re not really phased about her rush. Eating the pasties that came with your drinks is a good enough distraction as you leave the blonde to her morning rituals.

Your ride is going to be ten whole minutes later than expected anyway.

When she joins you in the kitchen, already dressed in training attire, it’s clear she will not indulge and sit to have breakfast with you. Not deeming her of a look, you hand the footballer her coffee and favourite treat.

“Thank you”, she smiles at you.

How Alexia manages to turn your day upside down in a matter of moments, just with casually cruel words or well-placed kisses, still goes beyond you.

Her lips on your neck are a proven method and a really effective distraction to keep herself on your good side, she’s out of the door as soon as she hears your moan and feels your shoulders relax under her hands.

The club is packed as you make your entrance, the sudden change of temperature causing a shiver to go down your exposed back.

Despite the number of bodies dancing around each other, you spot your friends pretty easily – the loudest group in the most secluded corner of the place. Laughs and screams are thundering above the reggaeton music as you get closer.

“Here she is, the princess herself, blessing us commoners with her presence!”

“Fuck you”, you hit your best friend Jordi with a forceful punch on his shoulder but a genuine smile lighting up your features.

“Not my fault we can barely remember your face nowadays”

“Yet I still have to look at your stupid one”

He doesn’t mind your hand on his face, annoyingly shoving him off as you take a free seat at the table and greet all your other friends. It’s been a while since the last time you went out with them.

The night gets intense quickly as you finish your third drink and hit the dance floor with Jordi. You two have been friends since even before you can remember, learning to walk together and bonding over shared happy memories and sad heartbreaks.

He was the first person you came out to, not regretting telling him even when he laughed in your face, claiming he knew as well as your high school Maths professor did – maybe your crush was not as good of a secret as you hoped for.

You were the first person he confessed his fear of turning into his own father, not regretting telling you even when you booked him an appointment with a therapist and assured him that people are allowed to not like their own parents, but still love them in some twisted way.

Jordi is a great friend, the one you’re most comfortable with. That’s how you find yourself with your arms around his shoulders and his hands on your waist as the music blasts in the club.

It’s a freeing sensation, to be able to let yourself go in the secure embrace of someone you love.

A strange feeling crumbles from the pit of your stomach as another pair of hands circles you from behind, but you don’t think too much about it. Your body is always reacting to Alexia.

She doesn’t even have to touch you, somehow feeling her eyes on you the moment she entered the club with a bunch of cheering friends.

You knew it was a matter of time.

“Can I steal you for a dance?”

Jordi shoots you a raised eyebrow and a silent question, not amused with the whole situation and not quite happy with the way you’re handling this relationship with the blonde girl. He’s too supportive to say anything right this moment, but you know he has opinions – strong ones.

You nod with a smile before turning around in Alexia’s arms.

“He doesn’t like me”, her hands on your waist but her eyes fixed on Jordi.

“You don’t even know him”

“I don’t need to, he looks at me like I kicked his dog”

The tension is quite annoying for you, so you don’t even dignify her with an answer, merely acknowledging her disappointment by tracing her frown with your fingers. The Catalan hands are firmer as she pushes your bodies closer, following the music and the beats of your hearts.

“Wanna come to my place?”

“I’m here with my friends”, you half-smile, you told her a couple days ago you were going out to celebrate a colleague’s promotion.

“I leave for camp tomorrow”

You know, you plan a lot of your commitments around her crazy schedule.

All Alexia needs to do to convince you to leave the club is move her surprisingly caring hands up and down your exposed back, whispering nice words in your ear.

She has you wrapped around her fingers, and she has no shame in turning it in her favour.

Football is a family business, flowing in your veins for generations with a grandfather who played for Barcelona and both your parents involved on some level in the sport.

You played for a bit, realising quite early you didn’t have what it takes to go professional, but you found your path toward the green pitch anyway. Making a name as a sports lawyer was quite eventful, now you watch a football game with one eye on the ball and the other on paperwork.

Finding time to just sit there, be present, and enjoy your favourite club play without thinking of the legal repercussions is not easy, yet you manage. It still comes with huge repercussions on your mental health, but that’s part of the fun.

When Alexia crushed your life, you thought it couldn’t really influence your already massive passion for the sport. You already watched Barça games, and you even already know some of the players.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The Blaugrana captain is like a magnet, always able to catch your eyes and lock them on her for the entire 90 minutes, filling your mind and somehow making you body reacts to her every movement. You don’t miss a game, you spot her immediately on the pitch or on the bench.

You smile just knowing she’s doing what she loves.

“They better win or I’ll personally go down there to kick their ass”

You laugh at Mapi outburst. Despite her attitude, you know it pains her to be in the stands to support her friends on the international stage, hidden behind a cap. Telling her how much you admire her stance on such an important cause, no matter the consequences on her own life, is not enough. You’re committed to changing the game for her too.

“Three goals are a lot to overcome”, Ingrid points out with a teasing smile.

“What side are you on?”

“Yours, always”

Seeing the Norwegian kiss her girlfriend’s hand puts a smile on your face, making it easier to bite down the bittersweet taste of jealousy for the amazing relationship they have.

Like if something shakes you, you drift your eyes on the pitch right on time. Alexia is going for a run as Aitana sends her a beautiful pass on her left. You’re on your feet even before the ball finds the back of the net and the crowd erupts in cheers.

The celebration is cut short, there isn’t time to lose, but you can see something sparkling in the footballer’s eyes as she indulges in it a little, spurring the supporters to be louder when she retrieves the ball to restart the game as soon as possible.

Her teammates pat her back as they get back in position, getting just nods and prompts to keep the momentum going.

Then Jenni is on her side and Alexia lets the tall woman hug her, smiling.

Is strange, the uneasy feeling that spreads inside your stomach. Your hands are closed in fists but your legs are trembling, as if your body can’t tell you’re on quite cramped seats.

Spain doesn’t manage to overcome the three goals, despite the team’s best efforts. You know the captain will be in a sour mood for who knows how long, and she’s not going to come to you for comfort – not the one you’re willing to give her anyway.

You don’t mean to overhear the conversation, you don’t even mean to be there in the first place.

A national team representative pulls you aside after noticing you on the stands and asks to talk to you – or better, trying to talk you out of a legal wrangle between the federation and one player you represent.

It’s a useless attempt, but you’re not ashamed to admit you enjoy quite a lot letting those men think they can overpower you.

He guides you just outside the stadium, talking over himself. The first argument is reasonable enough, you can admit, but you lose interest pretty easily.

As soon as the players start to exit the facility, post-game rituals cut short after the defeat, you immediately take it like the best way out of the conversation.

You were just there, right behind the doors.

“Cheer up, Ale, let her kiss it better!”, Jenni mocks the blonde with a tattooed arm around her shoulder.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t tell me there’s trouble in paradise already”

“No paradise, no troubles”, Alexia mumbles back, stopping by the door.

They’re probably waiting for someone, unaware of your frozen form just around the corner. A couple of steps, and they would see you. A couple of steps, and this torture would end. Yet you can’t move and they’re still arguing.

“She’s around a lot more, she sleeps at your place–”

“That happens when you have a fuck buddy, I can’t control what she does”

You never hear her talking about you with such spite, such annoyance in her voice. Alexia is not the best one when it comes to expressing her feelings, but you think she’d talk about your relationship with some emotion. Any kind of emotion, but this.

“Oh, come on! You’re cute together–”

“Jenni, drop it”, the Catalan’s tone is harsh and final, “We’re nothing at all”

Well aware your relationship is not defined by any terms, the casually cruel honesty in her words makes your head spin regardless.

You know the nature of the bond between the two of you is built on sex, physical attraction, and convenience for more than one reason.

You’d hope some respect is granted with the intimacy of it all.

When a couple of players finally exit the facility, Alexia is in the back of the group with a deep frown on her face. Your eyes meet immediately and you can easily tell she wishes you could disappear as much as you do.

“Are you fucking joking?”

“I said I’m sorry!”, the blonde scoffs as she reaches for her abandoned shirt in a corner of your bedroom.

Hiding the marks on your neck and on her thighs will be more difficult.

“That’s it, you say you’re sorry and that’s it for you”, you fear she doesn’t even know what she’s sorry for.

“I genuinely don’t understand, what do you want from me?”

“I want you to fucking care!”, you rise from your bed, marching toward her before she has the time to leave the room – not minding the height she has on you, “I want you to at least acknowledge your mistake, to really apologise for disrespecting–”

“My mistake?”

When she snorts right on your face, you lose it, shaking your head in disbelief. It’s pretty easy to believe though, it’s not the first time Alexia does or says something that genuinely hurts you and doesn’t even realise what the problem is.

This one time her dismissive behaviour and stubbornness are a bit too much.

The athlete tries to get your attention back, seeing you dressing up and pretending she’s not even in the room anymore.

It takes everything on you to ignore her hands and pleading words.

“You’re overreacting”

“You really should go, Alexia”

“Can we talk about it?”

“About what? You don’t think you have anything to apologise for, you have no idea how much you keep hurting me. Fuck, you were ready to leave a moment ago!”

Opening the front door for her, you feel her eyes studying your body as to read your mind and her action burning inside you in a way you can just hope will not scar you permanently.

Alexia has so much power over you.

You want to hold it all against her, keeping close to the last amount of respect you have for yourself. You want to scream in her face how disregarding she is, how much she keeps shaming your relationship. You want to lay out for her all the actions and all the feelings she has shown you so far, both full of love and full of shit.

“I’ll call tomorrow”

“Please, don’t”, you plead as you invite her to leave one more time.

“Then happy birthday”

Her lips on your forehead burn like a mark.

“This is bullshit!”, Alexia mumbles as she drops the papers with the speech you helped her write and rehearse for the past hour.

She has an interview on a famous British sports TV show in a couple of days, they give her a whole segment to talk about the development of women’s football in Europe, about her foundation, and her plans for the future. Then they informed her she should do it in English.

“I think is impressive you can hold your own in your third language, but you can’t pronounce this phrase to save your life”

“I think you’re making fun of me”

“I am, indeed”, you admit with a genuine smile on your face, reaching for her speech to find a way around the words for her.

The footballer watches as you revise the script one more time, her frustration softened looking at your pen dancing around the papers and your tongue trapped between your lips – a sign of your focus, she learned.

“I will cook dinner while you’re on it”, she states, rising from the spot on the sofa before you can meet her eyes.

It happens sometimes, Alexia could prove to you her effort, even her care, with nice little gestures out of nowhere.

A full breakfast could appear on your kitchen table as you wake up late after a long and rough night with the blonde, who left the apartment with the first rays of sunshine.

A ticket for a concert could light up your phone with a few days’ notice, making you cancel any plan and jumping in anticipation for what looks a lot like an actual date.

A bunch of flowers could be delivered at your place without an apparent reason, following weeks of radio silence, but you learned to read her inability to express gratitude with words when you hold her body and soul firmly after a particularly tough training session or media day.

There could be random gestures and small details, making you feel a fleeting sense of stability and a bittersweet taste of how it could be to be loved by Alexia.

“I think she could actually love you, if she tries”, Jordi states out of nowhere, half-empty drink in his hand and eyes fixed on your friends having their first dance.

“Excuse me?”

“The fucking queen of football”

“Yeah, I figured. Where’s that even coming from?”

Trembling hands find invisible creases to smooth on your dress, not a good enough distraction from everything around you. Your friends really went on and beyond with the wedding reception, soft music surrounding them as basically all the guests form a circle around couple.

“Just saying”

“You don’t even like her”, you bite back.

“I don’t like how she makes you feel”

“She makes me feel good too”

The pity you let wash over yourself is enough to turn your cheeks red with embarrassment and something else you’re not quite ready to admit.

You know she’d love you, the signs are all there.

You know she knows too.

Letting her hurt you in the process, waiting for a change of heart that may never happen, makes you hate yourself a little bit. Never Alexia, just yourself.

“You should put yourself first”, he finds your hand, holding it firmly.

The music changes subtly as your friends start to join the couple at the centre of the dance floor with their partner.

“You should go dance with Angelica, she can put up with you only so much”

You start to question if your love alone can bridge the gap between your lives.

Alexia welcomes you into her apartment more often, having dinner or sharing silent coffees in the morning instead of just letting you stay long enough to satisfy your needs.

And then fall off the face of the earth, ignoring your futile attempts to reach out.

Alexia invites you to nights out with her friends. Her hand holds possessively any part of your body within reach, sending cold stares to anyone who could move too close around you or no less touch you in a shy effort to get your attention.

And then pretends you’re not even there in the first place when someone calls her out on her behaviour.

Alexia saves her jersey for you after an important win, putting the piece of clothing on you herself in the family and friends section. She ignores her sister’s tease to turn the conversation around, talking about details of the game and weekend plans.

And then asks you to come up with some excuse to not attend the same plans she made right in front of you, the same plans you’re invited to by the people she loves most.

Alexia gives you something that looks a lot like love and then takes it all back, ripping away your affection and care without looking back at your deeming light.

“We need to talk”, she greets you into her apartment with unusual gravity and her lips curved at a strange angle.

“Hello to you too”

Fighting fire with fire is one thing you had to learn as your relationship with the Catalan grew, both in your heart and in your life – intertwining and rubbing off every single moment of your day and night.

Alexia takes the cold shoulder with almost a guilty nod, knowing inside she’s the reason for your harsh words and uneasy attitude around everyone lately. You show her colours she didn’t even know existed, and she manages to take them away from you.

“We should stop this”

You turn her voice off as soon as you register her decision.

The footballer tells you that this relationship, this agreement, isn’t working anymore. That you’re hurting each other. That she’s hurting you. She admits she needs to focus on herself, on giving everything she still has in her career.

She says you deserve better, you deserve someone who gives you as much attention and care as you give to them.

Not a sentence, not a single word, or apology matters.

A wave of shame washes over you as soon as you realise she has to be the one to end it all, granting you more respect than you had for yourself.

You stop her speech midway with a raised hand, you accept her decision with a knowing grimace, and you leave her apartment without looking back – allowing her to make any trace of tears disappear from her face.

In the weeks that followed, it became clear how deeply your lives intertwined over the time you spent together.

You have to buy a new set of your favourite body wash, your last one still in Alexia’s bathroom. The book you’re reading is still unfinished, letting you questioning if the sister was actually the murderer, as you remember you left it face down somewhere in her apartment. You accept the promotion they offered you months ago, booking a one-way ticket for a city that’s definitely not Barcelona but looks a lot like a new beginning.

You park up memories and try to let go of the hurt, both for yourself and for the end of something you know it’d be beautiful.

It was beautiful, but it was ugly and painful too.

When you find yourself in the stands of a filled stadium, surrounded by high-profile men in suits and the most influential people in football, you can’t hold back your genuine smile as soon as Alexia scores a last-minute goal, securing her team the victory.

You’ll always be Alexia’s supporter, even if that’s the only role you’ll ever play in her life.

fine.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso community #ap11 #woso #woso imagine #here we go again #i hate this for so many reasons #if you find the mistakes and the typos and the shitty english #just ignore them #my wo(rd)so

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kooqitas · 4 months ago

Text

#pairing: brothers-friend!yoongi x reader.

#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~1500

#synopsis: your brother ended up forcing his friend to come to your house and give you tutoring… but the class wasn't exactly what he wants

#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, praise kink, humiliation, nipple play, overstimulation.

#notes: not proofread, english isn’t my first language!

★ m.list | inbox :D ;; taglist

you wanted to kill jungkook when you heard that he had asked yoongi to help you with your art history class, you knew that he had finished his college course last year and you were just starting, of course min yoongi was the best person to help you.

but, he is min yoongi.

you hated min yoongi, the (now) history teacher was your brother's friend since the beginning of college, at that time you had just started high school, now, a few years later, yoongi was a teacher at a children's school while you did some extracurricular courses beyond college.

min yoongi was always insufferable, he always treated you like his 'best friend's little sister' in the worst sense of the word, and it didn't help one bit when he started getting absurdly… hot. you would never admit it out loud, but damn, min yoongi was fucking hot the last few years. now that you sometimes went out together (because of your brother) you always hoped that when yoongi took you home, since jungkook always ends up with some random girl, he would finally see you as a woman...

you rolled your eyes when you heard the door open, min yoongi had the password so he didn't even bother to knock.

“good night, princess! your brother is going to the party and left me with the punishment of helping you."

"you can leave if you want, min yoongi! i’m not keeping you here" you answered.

he rolled his own eyes, placing some books on the table and sitting on the couch to help you.

a few hours passed, and the truth is that it was unbearable to be next to yoongi, he was unbearably intelligent... and hot, fucking hot. the tension of being in the same environment as yoongi was driving you crazy, he was smug and it irritated you, especially when he asked arrogantly how you didn't know about something.

you knew yoongi was watching you, at the end of the day he was still a man and your thin shirt and shorts weren't the most decent outfit to wear at the moment, but it's not like you minded having his eyes on you.

but, to be honest, you like it… a lot…

at a certain point, yoongi stood behind your body, his chest touching your back, and that's when you realized that he wasn't just staring at you... yoongi was excited, whatever shit was going through his head.

“so dumb...” he chuckled in his ear, making you shiver a little from the warm air that hit you. "i think you need another way to understand things..."

"what are you-" you tried to question when yoongi slid the thin strap of your shirt down your shoulder, but before you could finish, his hand was on your nipple, his index finger gently passing there, which made you sigh. "what the fu-"

"your brother said i should teach you... but he didn't say what..." he chuckled, still pressing your nipple. "i'm gonna teach you how to cum on my cock."

your body shook, enough for him to notice and smile.

“yoongi stop it!” you scolded him, trying to pull the strap of your blouse up, but yoongi just stopped you, using his strength to continue squeezing the nipple of your breast that was already swollen in his hand while you moaned softly.

"stop? but you won't stop moaning, doll! i'm dying to touch that little body, you know? you've grown up and become so hot..."

yoongi lowered your shirt completely, exposing your two nipples, he took his fingers to the one that hadn't yet been touched, and added his thumb to the one he already had the touch of his index finger, squeezing and massaging there while laughing at every sly moan you made while tried to get away from him.

you wanted that like hell, just like him, but damn, jungkook would kill yoongi if he dreamed that he touched you like that, your brother hated your one-night stands because he knew someone was 'taking advantage' of his sister, now imagine him discovering that at that moment the person taking advantage of you was his best friend.

"stop trying to resist, i'll deal with your brother later..."

yoongi continued squeezing your nipples, while it was delicious it was torture, your panties got more and more wet and all you had was the simple touch of his fingerprints on you.

yoongi turned you around, and at that moment everything was lost, you had never seen his eyes so dark. but your exchange of glances didn't last long, seconds later he had his mouth on your nipple, wetting your entire pout with his saliva while you moved on his body.

"all of this because of a nipple suck? i think it's better if you don't cum just from that, it would be pathetic!" he laughs, leaving a bite that makes you grab his hair.

you couldn't respond, his touches being too much for you, and everything got worse when one of his hands went down to his shorts, taking advantage of the fact that they were thin just to pull them aside, along with his wet panties.

"of course a slut like you would be wet from just that, right?" he ran his finger all over your cunt, making every inch of you feel his fingers and shiver while he still sucked your nipple. "what would your brother think of that, hm? what would he say if he knew i am gonna finger that pussy now? do you think he would complain? would he get mad at me?" yoongi laughed, thrusting two fingers at once into you, deep inside, making you moan, clinging onto his shoulder. "he would probably say that i'm taking away his little sister's innocence, but what innocence?"

he inserted another finger, the rhythm becoming a little more violent as you also rubbed yourself against him, feeling his fingers go deep into you, the sound of your liquid being more audible than the loud moans you made.

"and i hope him forgive me, but from now on i'll do this all the time, and when i can't bring you in my car, i'll fuck you in the bathroom at the party, or in the dark corner, anywhere."

you saw him remove his fingers from you and then pull down your shorts and underwear, his fat cock jumping out making you salivate.fuck, the wet swollen glans made you desire yoongi even more, being full of him was the only thing that mattered now.

"the slut is happy that she's going to receive cock, isn't she?"

yoongi rubbed the head of his cock at your entrance, but he didn't enter you, he just stood there, rubbing, looking at your face while you moaned completely desperately asking him to enter you.

"that, beg me! show me how much that pussy needs my cock!"

“yoongi, fuck, please!” you moaned, body shaking as he rubbed his cock against you.

"does my whore need cock?”

"please!"

"your brother has no idea what a slut he has at home, right? thinking you're a saint, but you're nothing more than a little whore desperate to be filled."

"please..."

"please what?"

"fuck me, please yoongi"

he laughed, thrusting his dick into you, which made you choke at first, yoongi was big, nothing abnormal, but still big enough to fill you up. he went slow but deep, making you shiver every time the big dick hit your uterus.

“greedy little bitch” yoongi said as he increased his speed, his body rocking against the couch and your tits bouncing, yoongi laughed sadistically seeing the scene, seeing you squirm beneath him.

he sucked your nipple again, making you literally scream with pleasure, you had never felt anything like that.

"shut the fuck up, or all the neighbors will know you're get fucking by me!"

but you couldn't do it, the orgasm approaching in your belly, the fat cock opening you up and hitting the right spot, the hot tongue on your nipple, it was all too much, and yoongi realized.

yoongi removed his mouth from your nipple, only to slap them a few times, what was already red became even more so, and you could only scream in pleasure. yoongi clenched your jaw, making you open your mouth and then spitting there before finally kissing you.

"i should record this and show it to his brother, let him know that the little sister he cares for so much is a cumslut"

the wet, sloppy kiss, while he still hit you deep and fast, was enough to make you come, but yoongi didn't stop, even with your body shaking.

"a good slutty takes everything they give her." he kept thrusting, the overstimulation making your body react on its own and try to pull away as he fucked you harder and harder... you were going crazy and then yoongi finally came

you thought he was gonna stop, but what yoongi did was continue, watching his cum drip all over your leg and couch. and when his dick finally stopped leaking, he rubbed it against your clit, making you whimper softly as you came again...

“shit, jungkook is gonna kill you!”

"he might even kill me, but first i’m gonna fuck you a lot!" he said laughing, lowering his head to your pussy starting to eat you.

#bts x you #bts x reader #bts smut #bts #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #kooqitas smut #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga x y/n #suga x reader #suga x you #suga #kpop x you #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n

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eldrith · 4 months ago

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i literally just thought abt this ajehbsha but like what if the reader was jace's bethrothed that was "killed" by the greens during the dance, but was actually captured and brainwashed her to be an assasin ksjwbsna

think of it somewhat like bucky barnes

safe flight on ur trip!:)

BABE YOUR MIND…. also i haven't seen the marvel movies in ages so im kinda going off what i can recall . and i took this in a bit of a diff direction i hope thats ok but i love this i could write a whole fucking book about this omfg. your mind is beautiful id love to keep it in a jar warnings: mentions of torture, death, assassinations, angst, allusions to smut if you squint, targcest bc its implied you are aegon's sister/of valyrian blood, brief allusion to suicidal thoughts, fluff mostly at the end and is a bit canon divergent. and yes i know this is 3.1k words but it's still a headcanon ok. its just a great concept

you and jacaerys are betrothed when you are young.

despite this, you remain close; shy smiles, kind whispers and youthful awkwardness that blossoms into a strong, devoted friendship. you're to be queen - and he, king. indeed you study for your future duties side by side, with prideful grins - and along the way, you find time for yourselves.

in youth, it is in teaching jacaerys to sew and read tarot, painting, or maybe even showing him the game you used to play with your brothers; it is in him teaching you to wield a sword, studying high valyrian together, him showing you how to climb the castle's ramparts, and inviting you along with he and luke to throw stones at the sea.

as you grow old, it is in jacaerys giving you rides on vermax, dancing with him any chance you can, exploring nature - mountains with caves and tall waterfalls that he pulls you under with feverish kisses, finding ways to sneak to each other's chambers; it is in you kissing his cheek and teasing him when his face grows pink, bringing lucerys along with the two of you when you begin to sneak out of the castle, in sharing too many cups of wine and stumbling to your quarters, in hands weaving through each other's hair.

it is nice.

but then, the war.

things are as okay as they can be for a while- duty is a blessing and a curse for you both. tensions mount. jacaerys feels like everything is falling apart, but he has you; his best friend, his lover, his favorite person in the entirety of the seven kingdoms. you cry with each other, train with each other, sneak off when things become too intense in court. you begin to whisper about a secret wedding, a traditional valyrian one; intimate, quiet.

he just wants to call you his wife, and you just want to call him your husband. but duty has a way of interfering with even the sweetest plans.

the evening jace leaves to treat at winterfell, you clasp a chain round his neck, one you strung your favorite ring through; a keepsake, perhaps. or as he likes to think, a reminder of you during the cold nights in the north.

despite it all, things are okay.

until he loses you.

you are killed with your dragon, defending a crucial line of passage for their men; vhagar and aemond are the last ones to see you as your dragon spirals beyond a hill, wings singed and aflame. you vanish.

jace is overwhelmed with grief.

the news comes just as he's beginning to find himself in a new world - a world without his younger brother - and he, an empty pit of grief and despair, isolates himself from others. consumed by sorrow and rage, his emotions spiral out of control - snapping, yelling, unable to contain his emotions even at council.

his days are marked by a deep mourning that he's unsure will ever be mended. life continues in its droll capacity - the war rages on, and jace becomes more bitter, and more like his great uncle daemon. bloodthirsty, demanding revenge.

and then, you return from the dead.

the day you come back to him is rainy and drowsy. he had foolishly, or in a bout of grief, not noticed the sounds of dragon overhead the caste; a dragon whose screech he had not heard in many moons.

his mother is the one to find him - alone, staring at the hearth in his quarters, eyes filmed with the glossy haze of sorrow.

rhaenyra's face is ghostly, sickly - and he grows immediately concerned as he sees her expression, rising to grasp her arms. "mother, are you well?"

he is shocked when he hears her whisper out: "she's alive."

his worry for his mother vanishes, blinded by her words. you. you're...

and despite being ordered to remain, his legs carry him out - to you. his mother's own footfalls follow behind him, her voice begging. he does not listen, even when she warns him - there is something that isn't right.

when he finally finds you he's elated, heart nearly stopping when your eyes meet.

but there's something missing.

when he takes you into his arms, you're cold; barely blinking, you are not who you used to be.

his own tears distort his vision as he cups your face, pressing a kiss to your full lips - and perhaps that is why he does not notice the sullen, empty look on your face. but he feels it in the way your lips do not kiss back.

jace tries to ignore it, at first.

as you are nursed back to physical health, you avoid telling the court of the truth. all that is revealed is the harrowing tale of your mangled body, put back together by the maester in the red keep; your mutilated dragon, whose health was dangled over your head by your own brother, the one whose head bears a crown that is not his.

you do not speak of your time, but the nightmares you wake from, screaming your throat raw, speak for themselves.

you heal.

you begin to show some signs of humanity after the initial shock subsides; and when you begin to seek his touch, he is glad for that semblance of what you used to have.

but it isn't the same.

you flinch at the slightest movements; your face, once expressive and joyful, is rarely lax of the straight, icy stare you send mostly towards walls. he knows he must be patient; you've endured something he could not imagine - but he cannot help his unease.

you do not speak as you used to - lapse in memory, seemingly unfamiliar with jacaerys; as if you did not grow up together, running down halls, whispering secrets, notching each other’s heights in the frame of your chamber’s threshold.

he can't help when he begins to turn away from your lips, avoiding the mechanical feeling of your mouth upon his, the coldness of your eyes when you attempt to unlace his tunic.

he feels as though it is a different person that tries to kiss him each time. he grows incredibly lonely.

in time, he is suspicious of you. you're... different. during conversations, you forget important details, you cannot recall milestones or memories you used to cherish.

the way your palm fits oddly into his, the way you no longer brush his hair back when it falls into his eyes. you call him jacaerys, or your grace - that, indeed, is the first seed planted in the suspicion of his mind. always jacaerys, never jace - and when he asks you what you do with all the time you spend alone in your chambers, you lock up as if mute.

when performing certain duties around the queen, your eyes would slide to odd objects, or pay close attention to cupbearers and how the queen enjoys her wine.

and he begins tracking your walks when you think you're alone: he discovers you sending ravens with a cloak pulled low over your head, visiting odd alleys in town and disappearing into the lower bowels of peculiar shoppes.

jace goes to daemon, of all people - daemon, first. he knows his stepfather's reputation—ruthless, cunning, and fiercely protective; if anyone can help him discern the truth, it's him. "something is not right," he tells him, worried daemon would somehow turn it into something it's not.

even worse, though, is that daemon is quick to agree. and when jace tells his mother, she confesses her own concern.

"that isn't her," his voice warbled when he tells his mother - lip, trembling, tears tracking down his cheeks as she pulls him into her embrace, her own fear poorly concealed.

when it finally happens, it is a shock to his entire body.

a mere word; murmured, off-hand at a council you happened to be attending - of which you often no longer attended, your trauma and recovery from the kidnapping having sequestered you to your quarters most days.

"Usurper," he'd said.

and then your head had snapped up.

a change in your face - as if no longer human, you’d leapt, ripping out a dagger that had been concealed in your bodice.

and then you'd lunged at him; slicing like a hound rabid for a piece of meat.

he does not remember much besides his reaction: striking you across the cheek and disarming you- kicking hard, your body being thrown to the stone. four swords at your throat. daemon holding you down with a look of disbelief at your heaving frame.

you were relentless, ready to kill - but you are too small, and the rest too many.

a stinging pain, throbbing at his neck as he watches you in shock.

but that was not you - a statue, some sleeping beast that'd been awoken in your tortured brain at the trigger of such a word. it had nearly been worse than when you'd died.

brainwashed, maester gerardys tells them.

it is not until after you have been thrown into the cells below and a bandage sealed around jace's neck.

the blade was one of green and black hilt; intended, likely, for the queen herself - in hopes that she'd have been the first one to utter the word.

likely, maester gerardys says, you were led to believe you'd been abandoned by them, and subsequently tortured for all the time you'd been held at the red keep.

and of course, there was the threat of further maiming your dragon, perhaps, or other similar threats - and physical torture, if the scars on your body are anything to go by; this twists a raw agony in jace's gut and he has to shut his eyes to ward off the thought of you, in pain.

it is a miracle you did not lose your head for nearly slitting the throat of the crown prince; he contests while still lying abed with the open slice of red across his throat, relieved when his mother informs him you are still among the living. she is a merciful queen.

he does not weep until he is alone that night.

breaking the brainwashing is the hardest part.

nights, falling asleep in his brothers or his mother's quarters where your screams of anguish or anger could not be heard - days walking past your heavily guarded chamber to reach his own, swallowing thick as he imagines you on the other side.

isolation is key, he's been told, but it makes it so much worse.

it takes so long that jacaerys nearly forgets what your voice sounds like, how your eyes shine in the sun. he forgets how your smile, beautiful and uneven, makes his heart flip; the taste of your lips, the cadence of your voice.

he even finds himself praying to the seven for the first time since he was just a babe.

slowly, as you begin to heal, you are permitted to see others. he is not allowed, nor is his mother - daemon first, then baela and rhaena with their grandmother. servants and maids.

he begins to hear you again. walking past the chambers which lie near his own, he'd hear your voice, conversing quietly with maester gerardys. when he dozes off over a strategy tome at his desk, he is jolted awake by your gentle, haunting humming; a tune he used to love.

his mother tells him it is not healthy to keep it in.

but he cannot bring himself to speak of it.

shame, pain, anguish, embarrassment - heartbreak. he has grieved you twice over, seen you become a ghost. he has lost you and lost you again.

herbs, potions, guided discussions and meditations. solitary confinement, exposure to the word - all of this, and you begin to shed the skin of whatever person they had made you into.

he pretends that he does not endure nightmares of that day every time his eyes close - of the glint of your knife, the soulless stare of your eyes. the swelling bruise on your cheek - in the shape of his own fist.

there is a thin scar, a puckered pink line of fresh skin across the apple of his throat the next time he sees you.

it's an accident; he walks past just as a maid leaves your chambers, and he naturally glances over. your eyes meet him, hair wet and fresh from bathing; wide as a sweet doe, pain and regret laced through your gaze. "jace."

his throat is tight when he hears your voice - gentle, laced with remorse. jace, you'd called him. he hides the tears in his eyes when he continues briskly past your chambers. he thinks about you ceaselessly the rest of the day.

he's told you do not sleep. you eat only when it becomes impossible not to, you cannot make meaningful eye contact nor hold steady conversations without breaking down in guilt. it eats away at him.

but as you begin to show signs of improvement, jacaerys is finally allowed to visit.

they're brief, supervised; he brings paintings, books, and anything they believe could help stimulate your memory of life before your change. he tries to ignore the sting of pain when you barely meet his gaze, voice stuttering, hands shaking.

you’re still not you; flickering eyes, quiet voice. but soon, after moons of quiet conversation, stunted by the armored guards standing between you and observing your every move, it changes.

little by little, he sees glimpses of you again. you laugh like you used to. you recount stories of your shared youth - with a grin, you remember the day he'd fallen from an apple tree trying to pick you a fruit, and you'd had to snap his arm into correct place.

you brush flecks of dust and lint from his shoulder with shy looks, you share the books you’ve been reading; one day, you ask him to braid your hair - a task you'd taught him in youth. you fall asleep when he's halfway through.

and yes, there are bad days - days where your grief and guilt eat your stomach and you refuse to even look him in the eye; when you sob into your hands and curl yourself on the chaise longue and jace is stuck, heartbroken, watching you push him away.

you do not forgive yourself, you will not let him forgive you - but you soon let him hold you, and you soon begin to hold him back with a desperate grip.

it takes a while for jace to accept help.

but soon, he undergoes his own healing process; he knows he must reconcile the grief of losing you with the joy of having you back, albeit changed.

eventually, he speaks openly with you about the death of lucerys and about your own assumed death as well. you stroke his hair when he cries into your chest, you kiss his nose and cheeks to rid the tracks of tears.

during quieter moments, you find solace in each other's presence. you walk together in the gardens, hand in hand, your steps in sync as you talk about the future; you sit by the hearth in the evenings, your heads close as you share whispered conversations and stolen glances.

you broach the subject one stormy day, your beautiful hair loose and whipping around your head.

he watches your mind churn behind those eyes, the ones that have regained their expressive nature - the eyes he's loved since before he knew such a word.

"i would have killed you." it's a whisper into the wind. "and yet, you saved my life."

your voice is not grateful - to his horror, it is pained - as if you believe such repentance could only be achieved through greeting the stranger.

he shakes his head, "it was not you who did it." but you've heard it countless times, and you still find it hard to accept - guilt swims in your beautiful eyes.

"i love you." he whispers it.

tears drop from your eyes as you look at him. "why?"

eventually, the fog clears fully.

you remember the details of your manipulation, the torture, the indoctrinating, the conditioning. you confess it all to queen rhaenyra and the dragonstone court - voice shaking and body bent with shame, you apologize for your weakness. jace has to look away when you begin to cry, when you beg for forgiveness, for another chance.

it is given without hesitance.

one evening, you sit by the fire with him.

something upon him catches your eye; with a tentative reach, your fingers brush his chest. jace looks down, breath catching as he realizes what you've found; gently, you pull the necklace from his tunic - a ring upon it, untarnished. your smile is sad, sorrowful - "you kept it," you whisper.

he can only nod, eyes never leaving yours. "i never took it off."

it is that night you tell him about a dream you had; you were both young again, carefree and in love. his eyes glisten with unshed tears just as yours do, and he takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "we'll get there," he promises, his voice unwavering. you both believe it.

you come back to him in ways he doesn't expect.

longing glances, eyes holding on his lips when he speaks to you - short teases that release your sharp tongue and quick wit. you are given some old duties back. kept to the castle, you mostly held draw efforts from within, but he can see the fire in your eyes return as the guilt subsides.

when the word usurper is accidentally used in conversation, eyes still flicker to you. there will remain wariness - conscious or not - for the rest of your days. but you prove yourself loyal and trustworthy, and you soon begin to forgive yourself.

nights you spend in jace's arms, fingers brushing against the scar you'd given him. tears are replaced with soft kisses upon lips, and eventually upon flushed, sweat-laced skin.

he is terrified each time you ride into battle - even when he and vermax are alongside you.

perhaps it is a weakness - to worry so, during a war; he cannot help it. but to his relief, you always come out unscathed, as does he - and you always slide off the wing of your dragon and pull him to you, murmuring into his neck, soothing over his back with your palm once you return.

you love him, and you tell him as much any chance you get. you begin to stop wincing when he tells you he loves you, too.

you still wake sometimes with a hoarse throat, but now you are soothed back to sleep when jace, bleary eyed and heart pounding, crawls into your bed alongside you. your cries turn into soft puffs of breath as he braids your hair until you fall asleep.

you still sometimes flinch when someone raises a hand, jace sometimes watches with wariness when he sees you wielding a knife.

but eventually the war ends.

you and jace marry.

a traditional, valyrian one; dragonglass sliced into lips, palms. a kiss that tastes of metal, of loyalty, of love. you whisper the words to each other, no echo of ghosts nor fear in your minds.

one flesh, one heart, one soul. now and forever.

you become prince and princess of dragonstone, first in line for the succession to the iron throne.

you show to be just rulers; fair and kind, strong willed and bright. ceaselessly, fiercely in love.

your firstborn son is named lucerys.

he has jace's eyes and your hair. you sing him the song jace remembers you humming those days after you came back to them - and when the queen visits to give her congratulations and to meet her grandbabe, the heir to the heir, she calls you daughter.

the scar upon his neck fades away, until you can scarcely trace it with your finger as he pulls you to him in the late hours of eve, wrapped in furs and the soft flicker of candlelight.

you do not hear the word usurper again.

requests open, or talk to me <3 taglist/mutuals; @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @jottositto @chloe-petrichors @softspiderling @dipperscavern

#requests #jace thoughts ༊*·˚#jace x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace smut #prince jacaerys #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #jacaerys fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jace fanfic #jace imagine

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freneziwlp · 6 months ago

Text

I hate when you're away

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel fucks the soreness away.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, smut smut smut ahead, unprotrected p-in-v, fingering, mentions of blowjob, cum eating, begging, horny asf Joel, eating out, daddy kink.

A/n: it's my first weekend with some time off, and what else should I be doing instead of trying my first attempt of writing smut hm hm?! Hehehe enjoy :) also, GIF ain't mine.

" Joel, baby! I'm so sore. " You whine softly as your fingers tenderly caress his tousled morning locks while he spreads warm, affectionate kisses all the way down your abdomen, tracing a path to his intended destination.

" Shhh, just relax now princess, let daddy stretch ya needy lil hole just a bit for his cock, will ya? " His thick accent sending shivers down your spine, leading you into closing your eyes, missing the way Joel spits in his fingers before smearing the sticky liquid all over your still puffy clit from last night's event, rubbing tight circles on the bud and dragging moisture up and down your pussy before shoving two dampened fingers inside you, curling his digits against your spongy walls, feeling you squeezing his fingers inside, your head falling back onto the mattress as you moans his name and bucks your hips against his palm.

Joel had spent a few weeks out due to one of his often travels around the state, doing god knows what with his most faithful partner, Tess. You used to be jealous of their proximity once you realized you had more than a crush on him, annoyed at how close she could casually be around him without making things up as an excuse to get his attention. Thankfully, the jealousy quickly went down the toilet once you found out she probably liked women more than himself did when she boldly hit on you while she was drunk, which you might even had enjoyed if you weren't so focused on seducing her partner.

You were reading a book on the living room's couch when you heard the jingle of keys unlocking you and Joel's shared apartment's door, your back sinking in an somehow uncomfortable position in the old cushions. You dropped your book aside, getting up to greet your man as he had spent long enough away from you, making you all needy for his presence and touch. To your dismay, instead of embracing you with his strong arms and whispering sweet nothings against your hair in attempt to show you how bad he had missed you, Joel didn't even look at you on his way in, dropping his seemingly weighty backpack on the floor, loud thud filling the air, before hurriedly barging in to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

You froze next to where he had just gotten in, not knowing how to react to his awfully unsual demeanor. As a matter of fact, you hadn't even had time to look in his eyes, only taking a hint of his beyond smudged clothes as he stormed away from you. Concern fill your chest as you begin to try to piece the puzzle on what had happened for him to act so distressed. Had the work he went to get done gone wrong? Was he pissed at someone who deared to go against him? You even wondered if Tess had gotten fucking killed by some motherfucking clicker. An assumption that soon vanished once you hear her voice on the other side of your door, talking to someone random on the hall.

Maybe he was just sick of you, afterward. Maybe he had gotten back to his strict and fuzzy way of treating you just like he was when you first got in his and his friend's way.

Unbestknown to you, the reason Joel had ignored your presence was due a fucked up wet dream he had had in the middle of the night when camping in the woods a few days earlier, leading him into waking up with a hard and leaking cock against the restrain of his pants, furious at how he wouldn't be able to take care of it when Tess was snoring right next to him and you were miles away. He tried to ease himself the best he could, struggling whenever he'd revivid the dream where he had you all on fours as he pounded you from behind, squirting on his cock as he demanded for you to cum, referring to him as daddy.

Well fuck, the way he missed your cunt the following travelling days should be forbidden.

The second Joel left his shower he went out looking for you, not bothering to wrap himself up in a towel much less get his body dried. You were sitting down, still in the living room, blankly staring at a random wall when he found you, a hint of regret hitting him when he realized that it was probably his fault you were so quiet but the incessant throb of his cock vanished the concern away. He approached you with loud steps, your eyes widening as you take in his naked form, droplets of water tracing paths behind him and all over his shaped body onto the floor below his feet, your eyes following his whole, parking at his pelvis where his cock was standing hard against his wet stomach, tip glistening with precum. Your mouth went dry as waves of shocks found their way up to the pitch of your stomach landing onto your core, it was safe to say the image of him only took mere seconds to affect you. Joel had his glare stuck on your face, his features harsh and eyebrows furrowed, almost as if he was in pain.

Joel knew that if he looked at you the moment he walked home, all sweet and loving with your big sparkly eyes staring at him, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself as he was in a dreadful need of your mouth on him, but he couldn't give in before taking a long shower, there was no way you would even want to fuck with him smelling like shit. So instead, he chose to ignore you, which wasn't the smartest choice considering you probably would have nasty second thoughts on it, but he would make things up with you the sooner he was all clean and smeeling nice. And boy, did he do.

" Hi there, doll. Have you missed me?" you nodded, speechless. " Well then why don't ya kneel for daddy and show me how much ya missed him, huh? "

The following events were all a blur, your body probably working on auto pilot as it only took seconds before Joel had himself shoved deep down your throat, hands tugging tightly around your hair as he bobbed your head against him the harder he could, desperate to fill your throat with his thick ropes of cum in attempt to get rid of the burning feeling of his need. Which obviously, wasn't enough. After making you give him head he fucked you senseless on the floor, making sure to vividly manevour you in all of the positions he had dreamt of while traveling. You and Joel spent the following hours drowning yourselves in each other's desires until there was no hint of energy left for you to keep going.

That was until he woke you up the morning after, in your shared bed, spreading warm kisses all over your face and neck, engulfing himself into the warmth of your body and silently thanking the heavens for letting him return home safe to your embrace. No matter how much of you he had taken the previous night, his cock didn't seem to take any near satisfaction from it.

He keeps fingering you until the previous soreness you'd been feeling turned into a desperate buck of your hips, wishing for him not to stop, your cunt twitching and leaking as you feel yout orgasm approaching.

" Are you ready for me, doll? " Joel towers over your laying trembling body, bending his torso so he could grab your tits, assaulting your erect buds with harsh pinches. You moans, nodding quickly " Yeah? Then beg for it, wanna hear ya say it "

He knew you hated when he made you beg, annoyed at how easily he could work his way onto your brain and manipulate you into becoming nothing but a slutty whore for him. He knew you hated that you were so easy to succumb to him, not willing to stop once you had it started.

" Oh don't ya try to stop yourself from bein' my bitch now, doll. Your pussy's dying for my cock to get it all wretched " You whimper, your core burning for him.

" Please Joel, p-please... please fuck me! Come on, ugh, I need you inside me already "

Your pleads seem to ignite fire on him as he lowers his face next to yours and smirk hungrily, like a predator scolding his prey. Joel presses his lips against yours in a harsh motion, swallowing your moans. He keeps on clutching on your tits, his free hand lowers to grab his member, holding it against your now drenched cunt. He interrupts the kiss and gets back to kneeling in front of you on the bed, he positions his throbbing cock onto your entrance, bumping on it, eliciting a loud moan from you.

" Mhmm, such a naughty lil bitch for me, all whinin' and beggin', gonna fill you up so good hun' " All of his teasing was growing impatience in you, he hell knows how to drive you insane and would never skip the opportunity of seeing you squirming underneath him " Joel, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already? For fuck sakes! "

" So much swearing for sucha pretty lil mouth, I think someone's growing mad at me now, huh " He mocked, causing you to growl in annoyance, but before you could complain any further Joel fully knocked himself inside you with no previous warning, thrusting his hips rapidly, both of his hands wrapped around your hips, pushing you desperately against him as his face contorted in pleasure. Your arms pull him against you making his torso bend over again, face falling onto the crook of your neck as you stick your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching and pulling him closer in a way that probably would draw blood from it, which only seemed to get Joel even more turned on as his cock would fuck you harder at each second.

" Yes, yes, yes, FUCK, fuck don't stop, don't stop baby! " Joel smirks, admiring your perky tits bouncing next to his face.

" Such a good girl begging for me. Fuck, ya pussy feels so tight, squeeze daddy's cock harder baby, c'mon " Joel mutters against your neck, his warm lips popping loud pecks and bites on it, you loved the way his beard would scrape your skin while he was fucking you.

" Mhmmm yes, want you cumming inside me daddy, I know you can't get enough of m-me, oh fuck! "

" Fuck, ya know me so damn well, don't ya? Daddy's gonna cum so hard, doll. Where do ya want me huh? " Joel pounds your pussy harder at each sentence, you know he's close from cumming, his hips muscles burning and twitching from how hard he's thrusting his way inside you, loud wet noises filling the air and sweat dripping down his naked back as you keep on scratching it raw.

" I-inside me daddy, mhmm ughh fuck please please fuck... gonna cum, fuck... I'm c-cumming Joel "

Joel tried his best to delay his release, to make the addicting feeling of your pussy swallowing him last the longer it could, but how could he ever control himself when his girl was begging so beautifully for him? How could he resist the thought of cumming so hard inside you that it would make you see stars and scream his name? Joel is addicted to you in ways he had never been with any other woman and his body would always betray him on it. He wouldn't miss the opportunity of bragging about making you cum when himself had jerked off so many times to the thought of it while he was still a mere friend of yours.

Joel growls, emptying himself inside you, cock twitching abruptly as white ropes of cum paint the tight walls of your cunt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head once you reach your own orgasm, jaw hanging open before eliciting a loud whine.

When you're both finished, Joel's body falls upon yours, panting and sweating, his cock softening within your warmth. He kisses your sternum, resting his eyes and listening to your heartbeat.

He pulls his cock out of your hole and you stops breathing for a moment when you feel his hot seed dripping down your pussy, you didn't know if it was the aftershocks of your climax but you could feel something gathering on your lower belly again. You shove one of your hands in between you and Joel's body, your fingers collecting his dripping cum and smearing it upon your swollen clit, making a mess all over it, dragging a low whimper from your throat, which caught your boyfriend's attention.

" Watcha doin' down there, doll? Seems like I'm not the only one who can't get satisfied, huh? "

" Mhmm, seems like it, yes "

" Here, lemme do the work for my woman "

Joel lowers his body all the way between your legs, nipping on your belly until he finds the spot you needed him so badly. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm but there was something about you being covered in his cum that wouldn't let your nerves cool down, you needed him just one more time.

He holds one of your legs and rest it above his shoulder, licking the insides of your thigh before stopping by your pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, his cock twitching for what it feels like the millionth time since he had gotten back, which almost seemed impossible but honestly, he couldn't care less about possibilities. Joel's jaw drops against your puffy core, his lips caressing your clit in a silent tease, he taste his own juices on you in a delicious mix of musky and sweet.

Lapping up your gathering moist, Joel licks and sucks on your pussy, pressing his tongue right where he knows you would die on the inside, you feel the coil building up again, tousling your fingers in his hair you pull him impossibility closer, bucking your hips on his skillful mouth, he alternates between shoving his tongue inside you and assaulting your clit with circling pressured motions. You feel as if you might explode at any time, wondering when he had learned to give head so fucking well, hints of jealousy hitting you when for a mere 2 seconds you imagine him making other women feel this way, getting interrupted by your orgasm ripping through your body.

If whenever Joel would return from a long trip he would make things up with you by giving you the pleasure of seeing him panting, face covered in your cum and a smirk on his lips after fucking you senseless for a whole night, then maybe it wouldn't be all bad having him away for a lil bit.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us #the last of us drabble #joel miller imagine #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #tlou

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binniesbooks · 4 months ago

Text

• DO FRIENDS KNOW HOW YOU TASTE?

YJ 999 .F25 2024

wc 3.8k

pairings bff!Yeonjun x cheater!reader (little bit of bf!Soobin x reader)

warnings explicit cheating, slight choking, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, public fingering, creampie (+ if I forgot anything)

faye's note This is a product of my very own extreme Yeonjun brain rot as a Soobrangdan! Help! I kept on saying I'd cheat on Soobin with Yeonjun, BUT FOR FUCK'S SAKE, DO NOT DARE CHEAT IF YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP. WE DO NOT TOLERATE CHEATING! 🚫 PLUS IF YOU HAVE FRIENDS , DO NOT GO OVERBOARD, UNLESS YOU TWO ARE DATING, GOODNESS! that's all, thank you cheaters 😂 (it's supposed to be a joke, cheater!reader 😭)

You and Soobin started dating not too long ago. You two met at the library, he had helped you out, reaching for a book that was too high for your reach. You two instantly clicked. After hanging out with him from time to time, you realized you had started to catch feelings.

On study days, you would be with him at the library. Coffee dates, picnics. You know the common ways of falling in love.

You love Soobin. You really do. He knows it. Everyone around you knows it. Even your friend -- Yeonjun.

Yeonjun has been your friend since high school. You met him way before meeting Soobin, obviously. And of course, Yeonjun was not an ordinary friend. He liked being close to you. He liked holding you. Sometimes you choose not to be with them at the same time because Yeonjun would practically hog you to himself.

But Soobin never said a thing. He keeps in mind, that you knew Yeonjun better than him. You met Yeonjun way before you dated him. He also promised himself not to get in your way. He didn't want to hurt the girl he loved most. That's how much Soobin loves you. Pure. Innocent. Modest.

He never allowed anything to develop between the two of you beyond a bit of physical contact. He preferred to handle things on his own rather than do anything he thought you might disapprove of. He was satisfied with just a kiss on the forehead or even a kiss on the cheek. Sometimes he would give kisses on the hand, but rarely on your lips. A few hugs would suffice.

He believes that you are still too innocent to take your relationship to the next level.

But of course, Soobin couldn't stay silent throughout his life. He felt the need to speak up too. "Y/n," Soobin holds your hand, brushing his thumb on top of your hand. "I know Yeonjun holds a special space in your heart." He was staring at you, eyes full of guilt and sadness. "But I'm feeling a little bit jealous. I'm sorry, I can't help it," Soobin confessed when the three of you were at a cafe.

Yeonjun was the one ordering. And that gave Soobin the chance to tell you what he felt."I'm sorry, Binnie. Don't get me wrong, okay? He's just a dear friend of mine. I have no one else besides you and him." Soobin leans into your hand as you cup his face, sighing as he closes his eyes.

However, the silence between you two broke when Yeonjun cleared his throat. He placed the tray on the table as he flopped down beside you, casually draping his arm around your shoulder.

Soobin averted his gaze. Quietly reaching for his drink. Sometimes he thinks he's not your boyfriend anymore, despite telling himself not to say a thing about this issue.

"Soobin, have you already reviewed for our exam tomorrow?" Yeonjun asked, acting as oblivious as ever.

"Well, yeah... I kinda browsed through it last night."

Yeonjun ran both of his hands on his face and said, "I did too. But it's math. And it's making me frustrated.”

"We can just share the table amongst the three of us tomorrow," you chimed, knowing well that the other two couldn't excel in math like you. Both of the males nodded at your suggestion.

The three of you ended up sharing one table on your test. Your teacher didn't pay much attention to the seating position, so it gave you the chance to change seats. Plus, he didn't check on his students while the test was happening, allowing the two males to peek openly at your paper.

Saturday came, and you got a call from Soobin, asking if you were free today and if you were down for a date.

"Y/n, are you busy? Do you wanna go with me to the amusement park that just opened?" he asked."Sure, Bin! I'm down! Let me just get ready!" You really wanted to make it up to him. "Okay, I'll pick you up. I love you."

"I love you too, Soobin."

Soobin never raises his voice toward you. He's so soft-spoken and gentle. You almost couldn't find a flaw in him.

Soobin came shortly, in his usual tee and jeans. A bright, dimpled smile flashed across his face when he saw you.

"Let's go?"

"Let's go!"

You enjoyed the date with him. In fact, you really love going out with him because he knows what to do, gets everything planned, and is always prepared for a plan B. You love Soobin. You love your boyfriend. So why, of all people, are you kissing Yeonjun at your front door?

"I'm glad you enjoyed our date. I'm really sorry for being jealous y/n. I promise not to say unnecessary things about your friendship with him." You were in Soobin's embrace the whole time while he was saying all of these.

"No, Binnie, I should be the one saying sorry," you admitted. Soobin only shook his head, "No, it's all good. Maybe I wasn't in my right mind at that time. I should've known better."

"Plus, I know you love me. You love me, right?" he added.

"Of course, you silly boy. I love you!" You pinched his cheeks and planted soft kisses on them. You stepped back a bit, cupped his face, and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. Soobin was stunned.

"Just one!" You giggled as his eyes grew wider. "Now go, you don't have to escort me all the way upstairs. It's getting late now."

Soobin nods, mind-hazy, and walks away like he was a hypnotized man. You chuckled at him before you marched upstairs to your unit.

You froze when you saw Yeonjun sitting beside your door. He stood up when he saw you, smiling from ear to ear, his eyes droopy.

"Were you out?" He asked when you approached him.

"I was. Why are you here, Jjunie--Holy cow! You're drunk!" You exclaimed when you stepped closer to him, the smell of liquor shooting through your nostrils.

"Just a few shots, not that much," his voice slurred. "Missed you so bad, baby..." he whispered, holding your face. "L-let's go inside, people will see--" You were cut off when his soft and trembling lips pressed onto yours as he pushed your back against the wall.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. “I fucking missed you so much, pretty," Yeonjun whispered again before diving in for another kiss, biting down on your lower lip. Slotting his thigh between your legs. He pulled away again, rubbing his thigh on your clothed cunt, the tiny dress allowing him to move his thigh freely.

"Y-yeonjun..." you whimpered as you looked up at him. "I-inside... Let's go inside... B-bedroom..." Yeonjun snatched the key from your hand as he rushed to open the door of your unit, shutting it closed once he pulled you inside.

He pushed you against the door once more, kissing you down to your neck.

"A-are you in a rush, Jjunie?" You chuckled, tangling your fingers on his black locks. Yeonjun pants and shakes his head. "It's just that. I miss how you taste... It's been a week..."

"So eager, love. So eager, I like that." You smiled at him. "Let me wash up first," you added as you kissed his nose. He then pulled away and hugged you as you wobbled your way to the restroom because of his weight.

Just as you bent down to the sink, about to wash your face, Yeonjun lifted the hem of your dress, pressing his hard-on on your ass as he held your face to make you stare at you and his image reflecting in the mirror, his other hand resting on your waist.

He slowly grinds on you, biting his lip, and stares at you, looking into your eyes through the mirror. You propped both your hands on the sink to keep your balance, letting Yeonjun rut in you.

Yeonjun stopped, gently massaging your waist. "Have you two kissed?" he asked. You slightly nod your head and say, "J-just a peck." Yeonjun's face darkened, and his hand that once held your face moved down to your neck, giving it a little squeeze. "I'm still your favorite friend, right?"

"Y-you will always be, Jjunie."

"Now, move," he commanded, tightening his hand on your neck. You gasped for air, as you slowly rubbed your ass on him. Yeonjun removes your panties, pulling them down to your thighs.

He slid his cock out of his boxers as he rubbed it on your wet folds.

"Poor Soobin. So oblivious to what's going on," Yeonjun smirked as he slowly pushed inside of you.

You felt the familiar stretch down there, causing you to falter and chant his name. Both of his hands are gripping your waist.

"You know my name very well, don't you? Given that I'm just your dear friend," Yeonjun started thrusting, as he picked up his pace. "How come you're still so tight for -fuck,- for me?" he added.

"T-too big, Jjunie! Ahh!" You felt yourself lose your remaining strength. So you had no choice but to lean your forehead against the sink.

"Shit, I'm close, baby, fuck!" His movement stuttered for a while before he stilled inside you. Then he moves again to let you cum.

Your whole body was trembling, and your legs wobbled when he pulled out. "Fuck, I came so much; will you be okay?" Yeonjun pulled you to face him, cupping your face. "I'm f-fine, Jjunie. T-thank you so much." You bit your lower lip, nodding your head as he hugs you.

You can still feel his cum dribbling down your thighs. “Let’s get you cleaned up." Yeonjun planted a soft kiss on your forehead before he lifted you up, carrying you to the tub.

"I'll go get your clothes; you start washing up."

You found yourself cozy in Yeonjun's arms once again on that cool night. You two were tucked in your bed as Yeonjun ran his fingers through your hair. You felt drowsy, surrendering your body to Yeonjun's embrace as you fell asleep.

When you woke up the next day, Yeonjun had already left your place. Maybe he did at dawn; he always does this; but you were used to it.

And the cycle went on. You and Soobin go out for a date, and Yeonjun waits for you at your front door -- may or may not be drunk. Something happens between you two; he leaves at dawn. Soobin was still as oblivious as ever. Yeonjun enjoys it. He knows you'll keep him around, cheat on Soobin over and over again, and let him fuck you no matter what day it is.

It's been a few months since this type of setup started, not to mention the fact that even before you met Soobin, your friend, Yeonjun, has been doing things with you.

"Y/n, it's my birthday tomorrow; can you do this friend a favor?" You could see his smug look over the phone call. "Do you mind joining me at my birthday party at the club? I know you don't wanna go to those kinds of places, but could you please reconsider?" He decided to invite you to a club, no, persuade you to join him.

You had no other choice. Since he rarely asks for requests, you complied. "Fine, fine, I'll go with you. Just this once, okay?" His chuckle resonates as he replies with a hum.

You asked for permission from Soobin to go, and of course, as your loving and considerate boyfriend, he gave you permission. "Only if you let me pick you up after," Soobin said over the phone.

"I'm fine Bin sweetie. It's not far from here. I can take care of myself," you assured him. He sighed in defeat, "Call me if anything happens."

"To the corner." Yeonjun was holding your waist, admiring how the dress you wore hugged your every curve.

"It's too dark," you groaned as you plopped on the corner couch.

The place was not too big but could accommodate at least a hundred people. "I'm gonna go blind before we get out of here, Jjun," you complained, the blinking colored lights making you dizzy and making you squint your eyes.

A bucket of beer was placed on the table in front of you, along with some expensive-looking bottles of liquor. You pour some into the glass, which you guessed was whiskey. Yeonjun was intently watching your moves. You handed him the glass. "Happy birthday, Jjun." You smiled at him.

A smirk was plastered on his face as he got the glass from you, swirling the liquid inside the glass.

The clubbing went well, to your surprise. Yeonjun was quiet most of the time. Aside from his constant compliments, nothing came out of his mouth.

"You're drunk. Let's get you home." Yeonjun sighed as he stood, trying to pull you. "It's y-your birthday Jjun! L-let's get wasted!" You slurred back.

He groaned as he ran his hands against his face. "You're borderline wasted, baby; get up." You shook your head until someone approached you.

"Hey! Y/n! Is that you?" The girl called out to you. You rubbed your eyes as you stared at the girl in front of you.

"It's me, Ria, Soobin's cousin. Remember?" Yeonjun's gaze shifted from you and the girl who approached you.

"Ah! I remember now!" You exclaimed.

"Where's Soobin? And who's this guy you're with?" She asked.

"A close friend of mine, it's his birthday; we're just celebrating." You tried your very best to speak straight, and it's safe to say you did succeed.

"Happy birthday," she glanced at Yeonjun, to which Yeonjun replied with a small smile, "I'm gonna call Soobin to pick you up, okay? It's getting late; it's not safe outside."

"I'm fine; you don't have to. Besides, I'm with my friend."

"Friend..." You can tell her eyes were judging Yeonjun at this point. From the way, Yeonjun was holding your hand.

"He's really just a friend; you don't have to worry. Besides, I even asked Soobin for permission and they even know each other too." Ria nodded, sighing as she got up and bid goodbye. Even though her phone was already pressed against her ear.

"Friends...Do friends know how you taste?" Yeonjun chimed as he sat beside you once again, his face resting on his palm above the table.

"Y-yeonjun, keep your mouth shut..."Yeonjun gently slid his hand onto your thighs, down to your core.

"Jun... J-junnie, not h-here... Ahh.." his fingers traced your clothed fold.

"You saying something? Can't hear you; it's too loud in here," he asked as if he was not doing something...his fingers slowly thrusting inside your cunt.

He pushed his two digits inside, pushing and pressing. You held on to his arm tightly. Whimpers and whines are escaping your mouth.

"More?" Yeonjun taunts, "you need more?" You nod frantically as you watch his lips curl up to a smirk.

A few more minutes of his languid strokes, and you can feel yourself nearing your high.

Your eyes widened when you saw Soobin from the entrance door, his tall figure letting you know he was there.

"Y-yeonjun, your hand. H-he's here... S-soobin is here... ohh...please.. shit... M-more..." You clutched on his dress shirt, moving your hips unconsciously, begging for more, even though you could see Soobin looking for you.

"Please, baby, I need you... I need you so much..." You whimpered with a shaky voice.

A sly smirk played on Yeonjun's face. "What should we do then? Your boyfriend's here already. You need to go home." He chuckled at your trembling and drooling figure as you kept on moving your hips.

"Where is she?" Soobin asked her cousin, Ria.

"At the corner table, she's with someone whom she says is a friend." Soobin nodded as he headed towards the table at the corner, Ria following along.

"What the... I swear they were just here." Ria was confused, you were nowhere to be found. Soobin tried calling you. After six times, someone picked up the call.

"She's with me. Don't worry, she's fine. I'll take care of her." The voice over the line was Yeonjun. Soobin didn't know if he should be angry, jealous, or thankful. Nevertheless, he trusted you, and hence he just headed home. At least he knew you were safe.

Yeonjun threw the phone in the backseat of his car. "Fuck, at least wait till we are home, baby... Shit ahh!" He gripped tightly on the steering wheel as he bucked his hips up, hitting your throat.

"Wait til we're home, and you're done for, you-- fuck!" His lips are red and swollen from the biting as you bob your head on his cock.

Lucky for him, the traffic wasn't that bad. He decided to head to his place instead of yours. He was thinking Soobin might come to your place. Just to be safe. Besides, Soobin didn't know where he lived.

If there was a competition about holding back, Yeonjun could've won. He managed not to cum inside your mouth. He wanted you in his bed, not in the car. You were too pretty for public sex.

His front door burst open as he dragged you upstairs. His steps were heavy and rushed.

Without further ado, he quickly got rid of your flimsy dress, pushing you onto the bed. He did not waste any time, slipping out of his clothes, eyes full of lust. the moment he saw you lying on the bed.

The bed dipped under his weight. "How come you're so shy now, hm?" He taunts. "Show me your daring side; you just sucked me off in my car, and now you're covering your pretty little face?" Yeonjun chuckled as he pried your hands off your face.

"I hate to say this, but you're acting like a slut. My bratty slut." You whimpered at his words. You're not used to him calling you names, yet it stirred something in you.

Yeonjun hovers above you as he plays with your nipple, watching you squirm.

"My, my. Look at you. What a good, beautiful slut. A cheater, indeed." You might tear his sheets by how tightly you were clutching them."Y-yeon... J-junnie..." Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tongue swirled on your nipples.

He started planting wet and open-mouthed kisses on your chest. Leaving splotchy red marks in the process. Then his lips claimed yours in a searing kiss. But it wasn't aggressive; instead, it was a passionate one. A kiss that clearly says he doesn't only want you, but he also loves you dearly.

"I love you... I love you y/n. I can't do this anymore; I can't watch you with Soobin anymore. Please, I want you to myself."

You never thought that Yeonjun actually liked you to this extent. You thought it was just a normal thing to be friends with benefits.

"S-should I break up with him?" You asked as you held his face closer to you. "Do you promise to take care of me just like how we are now?" Yeonjun nodded, kissing your forehead.

You were caught off guard when he rubbed his tip on your wet cunt. "Stay away from him; you're mine. You were mine from the start." As he kept on teasing you with his cock.

"G-give it to me, Jjun, please... Ohhh.." You were moving your hips with him, hugging him, wanting him closer to your body.

The stretch was familiar. It felt so good that you pulled his hair unconsciously.

"P-please keep pulling my hair, fuck, I love it. Holy shit." Yeonjun was into hair-pulling? You smiled; you never knew this side of him. He started thrusting, his warm flesh dragging over your mushy walls.

"D-did Soobin g-get to feel you like this?" his voice shaky as he slowly pulls out and slams back into you. Eliciting a yelp and a moan from you.

"N-no! Only y-you... O-only you, Jjunie..." His grin grew wider after knowing Soobin didn't even have the chance to split you and see this side of you.

"You're a bad girl y/n, you know that?" He played with your clit as he stopped thrusting for a while. You shook your head in disagreement. "I-i'm a good g-girl!"

"Do good girls cheat? Hm?" You bit your lip as you melted into his gaze. "Greedy too. You have a boyfriend, yet you're fucking your best friend. Such a whore."

"Yeonjun..." you whined, tears escaping your pretty eyes.

"Why are you crying, my pretty whore? Am I not making you feel good?" He pulled out fully, teasing his tip once again on your folds.

"P-please say i-i'm a good g-girl.." You pleaded, tears still flowing from your eyes. "You're my good little whore, baby. You're not bad for cheating on Soobin with me, you deserve this good cock." He cooed at you with a wide grin, slamming back again inside you.

"Now be my good baby and pull on my hair again, will you?"

You tangled your fingers through his dark locks, pulling them every time he thrusts inside. He can't let you see his red cheeks, deciding to hide into your neck the entire time, busying himself with planting hickeys on your porcelain smooth skin. His thrusts were so strong that you came two times in a row already.

"It feels so fucking good... Shit." He couldn't stop telling you how amazing he felt every time you pulled on his hair. "It feels too good; I think I'm gonna cum," he groaned on your neck, his thrusts growing sloppy.

You nodded frantically, wanting him to cum inside you again and again. Filling you up to the brim. To let his cum overflow inside your pussy.

It only took him a few more thrusts before he spilled inside, painting your walls white. His cock pulsated inside your cum-filled pussy. He pulled out gently, not wanting to spill his cum, pushing his cum more inside of you with his two fingers. You felt so sensitive that you started to whimper underneath him.

"I hope you don't forget what you've said, because you're drunk," he sighed as he lay beside you, pulling you into a hug. Your arms reached over his waist, hugging him back. "I won't. I'm already sober."

"Don't joke around. I almost dragged you out of the club because you seemed borderline drunk, baby." He pouted. "I swear, I'm sober, Yeonjun. I started being sober when your cock reached my throat earlier." You chuckled, giving his chest a few kisses. A blush crept up his cheeks as he buried his face on the top of your head.

"Just tell me when you're ready to go again, hm? I want more," he whispered. "Five minutes. Let's continue after five minutes," you chimed as you littered his neck with hickeys.

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #yeonjun's books #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun smut #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun scenarios #choi yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun scenarios #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin x you #choi soobin

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transmechanicus · 4 months ago

Note

this is. probably a very personal question.

Is it worth it? Transitioning? In spite of it all?

Completely, utterly, and absolutely. I’m one of those ppl who knew i was trans since i was like 8. I found out when i was probably 13/14 what transgender meant, but recoiled from it because i could not imagine a world that would accept me or where i would be happy with the result. At 15 i met my first other trans person, and they became my friend and partner and the first person to ever know i was trans. Being around them, known by them, was such a colossal psychological relief and source of joy unlike anything i had known before. It made separating from them after graduation all the more excruciating to lose that one person i had trusted with that truth.

Sometime over the next two years i came out to my Mom, but nothing really changed, and i had more or less resolved to rot and die under the identity i had been born into. I let my undergrad studies chew me up, neglected all but the most necessary body maintenance, and spent every moment outside work or class buried in video games or books. At some point something snapped out of place, or perhaps back into place. I knew i didn’t want to die like this. I wanted something more for my life and my flesh than being a half dead servitor stocking yogurt. I wanted to transition, and however slowly, however long it took, that’s what i resolved to do.

It took a while. I had no real finances, no privacy, and little independence. I was coming from a white low-self-expression, high-control household. I “messed up” while base coating warhammer models one time and gave myself black nails. My dad berated me about it for days before trying to pin my hands down and sand the paint off (didn’t work, thank you automotive primer). When i was ~22 i got my ears pierced, basically the first permanent part of my transition, and i had never known as much joy as i did driving home knowing the pain was a step of permanent progress. Around this time 2019/2020 i started being out online, more vocal about being transgender as opposed to just having a relatively inexpressive fandom blog with no info beyond my name.

When i was 24, two years ago i came out to my dad, and a week later i left for grad school halfway across the country. I had an apartment all to myself, and my own source of income. I spent my spare change building up a wardrobe of new clothes that i actually liked. I got my first year of grad school done mostly without anything remarkable. Went to some queer events at my school. Found a partner. Got loved to bits for a while. Re-came out to my parents over the summer, and this time it stuck. Started HRT that fall, 2023. Came out to my classmates and coworkers and was rewarded with support and acceptance. Lost the partner. Devastated. Resolve to get even hotter and cooler. Smash out 3 piercings and a tattoo inside a week. Develop personal fashion sense. Attend research conference. Get better at makeup. Go to some concerts. Increase HRT. Tiddy Arc. Buy bra with a supportive bestie. Start weekly therapy. Increase HRT. Cosplay at a major convention. Schedule another tattoo. More HRT. Bra no longer optional. Present day. Tattoo on Wednesday. 90% of progress packed into the last year or so. Undeniably hotter, happier, and more self-expressive than anything in the last 24 years prior.

Transitioning is more than worth it, it brings me so much relief and joy every day no matter how shitty my day is otherwise, and while i have known doubt, i have never for an instant known regret.

There is still time🖤🏳️‍⚧️💕

#my stuff #trans #asks

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ddarker-dreams · 17 days ago

Text

Cherubim.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Implied trauma, Gojo and Geto are both weird + manipulative. Word count: 6k.

-Index-

March 18th, 2006.

2:26 p.m.

Gojo Satoru has found himself embroiled in his greatest turmoil yet.

Assassination attempts? That’s nothing, he’s waved those off since he was a kid. Jujutsu politics? The higher-ups can yap until they’re blue in the face; they’re all bark, no bite. Curses? Similarly inconsequential. No matter how much power they hold, they're reduced to speckled splatters the instant they cross his path.

For most, experiencing one of these dilemmas would prove too overwhelming, much less all three. He isn’t like most, though. He’s strong. Incomprehensibly strong. He can weather any storm, shift the tides of any battle in his favor. Has this gone to his head? Absolutely. He can handle ‘too much.’ It’s ‘not enough’ that’s proving to be an issue.

This is why he’s detailing his recent woes to an uninterested Ieri Shoko, who made the mistake of reading in the dormitory’s common area.

The scene is as follows:

Satoru’s along the length of the couch, his long, lanky limbs dangling wherever they can. He lays his head against the armrest, snowy hair succumbing to gravity in an avalanche that frames his face. He uses his ability to keep his sunglasses from meeting the same fate. Behind the dark frames, his eyes narrow into a piercing stare. If the ceiling were sentient, it would’ve fled by now. Such is the potency of his miserable mood.

Parallel to him sits Shoko, the fat of her cheek squished upward from resting on her fist for so long. Books, candy wrappers, and notes from last year’s curriculum yet to be thrown away litter the table’s surface. Suguru’s could put a calligraphist to shame, even if they were written in a Badtz-Maru pencil you won from a gachapon. Your notes stand out as well. They’re bright shades of your favorite colors, organized according to a system of your own devising. Occasionally, the handwriting shifts, taking on Suguru or Shoko’s likeness for trickier kanji. You doodle hearts of gratitude around the yomigana they include for good measure.

(You complained that his handwriting was ‘indecipherable’ when he tried doing the same. Out of spite, he gave you the cold shoulder… for three minutes. He withers and wilts without your attention).

He sighs and concludes his monologue.

“So, that just about sums everything up. Well? What’s the prognosis, Doc?”

“You’re in desperate need of more friends,” Shoko replies. Satoru lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “And you miss [First].”

Satoru perks up at your mention, finally giving that poor ceiling a much-needed reprieve. He shuffles around until he’s facing Shoko.

“But she just headed out yesterday.”

“I know.”

“That’d make me really weird and clingy, right?”

“Glad you’re catching on.”

While Satoru contemplates the previously unconsidered possibility of him being ‘really weird and clingy,’ Shoko reopens her manga. She’s of the mistaken belief that the issue has resolved itself. Unfortunately for her, the problem extends beyond Satoru’s insatiable hunger for you. The problem is Satoru himself. Until he’s running amuck elsewhere, there’ll be no solace.

She commends herself for her patience.

In typical Satoru fashion, he continues testing it.

“When was the last time you updated your passport?”

“I’m not flying to her home country with you,” Shoko shuts down what he thought was a brilliant plan. “It’s just two weeks. Wait it out.”

“What if we fly first class?”

“Gojo.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s still too soon to meet her parents. It’s gotta happen eventually though, right?”

Shoko doesn’t dignify this with a response.

Satoru sinks into the cushions. Could there be anything worse than boredom? He has no missions lined up, you and Suguru are visiting family, and the first-years haven’t arrived yet. Pestering Utahime has lost its charm too. He could return home before the school year starts, but he’d rather have his fingers chopped off one by one than suffer that torture.

“Hey, Shoko.”

“Mm.”

“Why aren’t you back home? I thought you got along with your parents.”

“They’re both busy. I wouldn’t see them much.”

Satoru doesn’t press the matter.

It does intrigue him though — the relationship sorcerers have with their non-sorcerer families. Or, to be more specific, yours and Suguru’s familial dynamics intrigue him. Satoru can’t (and doesn’t bother trying) to care for the going-ons of anyone outside his small circle. This is more the hubris of a teenager who has been told he’s special his entire life than anything malicious. To Satoru, the world’s population might as well be stuck at three.

Regardless, it’s an improvement.

Before meeting Suguru, those in his life consisted almost exclusively of suckups or stuckups. If he was unlucky, it’d be both, rolled into one terrible package. This was his reality. Jujutsu was his reality. He was the first to possess the Limitless and the Six Eyes in generations. The Gojo clan wouldn’t waste such an extraordinary opportunity. He was their pride and joy, personality aside.

He was born to be the strongest.

He can’t imagine any other life for himself.

Then there’s you.

He could see you leading a normal life. You wouldn’t be top of the class or a varsity athlete, but you’d be well-liked. Boys would nervously ask you out on dates and buy you roses with money they got from mowing lawns. You’d be the first one your friends would call when they experienced heartache. Maybe you’d go to college or land an entry-level job. Some co-worker with a decent sense of humor would win you over. Then you’d get married, rent a property, have a few kids…

Satoru’s stomach twists. He grimaces, shifting his thoughts elsewhere. Namely, the question that’s bothered him for a while.

Why did you become a jujutsu sorcerer?

It was intentional. You chose to leave behind your home, your family. You knew the risks. How the body can break and ache in ways previously unrecorded. And what do you get in return for this thankless crusade? Sleepless nights where you tremble like a leaf beside Shoko? A nimbleness at dressing wounds that could only have come from years of practice?

You’re open about everything until you aren’t. Fear, mortality, loss — when confronted by these unsightly truths, you retreat to someplace he can’t follow.

Satoru can’t make sense of it. Neither can Suguru. Shoko says they shouldn’t press the matter. He wants to, though. He needs to know how you break. How else can he ensure that you never will?

He thinks back to that humid August day. The binding vow eviscerated your insides, shards from fractured bones dug into your organs. Until that point in his life, Satoru prided himself on his immunity to fear. The pathogen never lasted long in his system. After all, fear is born from a lack of control. From having something to lose. If he couldn’t lose, what was there to be afraid of?

It’s a question he’s been avoiding.

(“If she dies,” he told Suguru, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “They die too.”)

His mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. He’ll drink that tea you’re fond of later to satiate his thirst. He wonders if you share its taste.

“What’re you reading, anyway?” he asks, hoping to take his mind elsewhere.

“Fruits Basket.”

He laughs, incredulous.

“Seriously? Didn’t take you for a shoujo type.”

“I borrowed it from [First]. We’re doing a book exchange over break.”

A book exchange… three words Satoru never thought would pique his curiosity. However, anything about you demands his undying attention. Even if it’s shoujo manga. Girls who read that genre do it to project onto the heroine, right? So the love interest must have appealed to you. What tropes do you like? Do you want a shy, sensitive soul who blushes and stutters in your presence? A misunderstood bad boy who’s only soft around you? The responsible student council president?

Oh, he’ll have so much material to tease you with when you return. He can’t wait.

“How do I enter this exclusive book club?” Satoru demands.

“You don’t. I don’t trust your taste,” Shoko replies, much to his chagrin. “You can still read it, though. She has all of the volumes in her room.”

… Your room?

He grins from ear to ear.

Should he respect your privacy? Probably. Is he going to? Of course not. He never has, there’s no point in starting now.

This trip of yours might yet redeem itself.

Along the outskirts of Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru spots an odd woman.

She’s wearing a baggy graphic tee, low-rise jeans, and gaudy bracelets on both arms. Her black hair is tossed up, thick strands sticking in every direction. Even from this distance, he can discern the silver glint of piercings that dot her ear like constellations. The stranger stands slouched, both her hands shoved into her pockets. For her to have gotten this far, she can’t be a civilian. Those unfamiliar with jujutsu can’t find this place.

He stays still for a spell — watching and waiting. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to sense his presence. It’s one of the few areas he excels at over Satoru. Satoru’s cursed energy is bright, blindingly so, a thunderous clap that can be heard for miles. Suguru prefers to keep his muted. It coils around his limbs like a serpent, never straying far. This is why you had no difficulty picking out Satoru’s stupefying presence on your first day, whereas he had to make himself known to you.

Suguru’s lips quirk up.

He was fated to meet you.

“Hey! Kiddo!” A deep, somewhat raspy voice exclaims. He blinks rapidly, temporarily thrown off. “This ain’t an art gallery. What’s with the staring?”

She noticed him? How?

When the stranger starts slinking his way, he regains his composure.

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable,” Suguru’s cadence flows smoother than a river.

“Hah! ‘Uncomfortable?’ That’s a way of putting it,” she pokes the space beneath her emerald eyes twice. “Even now, I can feel ya picking me apart. Shit’s creepy.”

His smile tightens. “I’ll be more mindful of my conduct in the future, then.”

She waves him off. Her golden bracelets clink together as she does so, the sound grating his ears.

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. And I should know. Schemers excel at picking out their brothers in arms,” she juts her head up, giving the impression that she’s the one looking down on him, despite the slight height difference.

“Anyhow, by the looks of it, you must be Sugu-kun.”

… Did she just call him Sugu-kun?

“What? Too soon* to be calling you that? Heh, heh…”

Suguru’s smile tightens. “You can refer to me however you like, so long as I can return the favor.”

She guffaws.

“Maaan, Goldie sure was gracious in her description of you,” the woman gives him a lopsided grin. “Name’s Akane. There — is the playing field leveled now?”

“Ishimoto Akane?”

He doesn’t miss the way she winces as her surname is spoken aloud, rather pointedly at that.

“Ah. S’pose I had that coming.”

Suguru decides against prolonging her torment. He’s in a generous mood, it isn’t every day he has a chance to learn more about you. This is an opportunity he’ll take full advantage of.

“And I presume 'Goldie' is [First]?”

He makes a mental note to figure out the wordplay for your nickname later.

“Full marks.”

Suguru hums, a sound indicating that he’s drifting deep into thought.

You don’t mention your mentor often. When you do, it’s normally in the form of endearing (if not mildly concerning) anecdotes.

“She told me that natto is bits of caramel held together by melted marshmallows, like a Rice Krispy Treat. It… it was not like a Rice Krispy Treat…”

“... For my twelfth birthday, she got me Pokemon Ruby. I remember crying because Roxeanne’s Nosepass took out my Torchic. My cursed energy spiked and the party had to end early…”

“... Out of curiosity, I drank her stash of Georgia canned coffee. My heart rate was almost high enough to warrant a trip to the ER…”

Getting anything else relating to her out of you was like trying to wring water from a rock. Suguru didn’t miss the wistful melancholy underpinning your stories. You recalled them with a far-off expression as if mourning that those days of whimsy were over. Initially, he considered it a consequence of growing up. Childhood idols rarely remain highly esteemed as the years pass and maturity accrues.

His intuition argued that he should examine the issue closer.

(“I met her, y’know,” Satoru mentioned whilst he spun in a rolling chair ‘commandeered’ from Yaga. “Akane. Our girl’s mentor. Former mentor? Whatever the case is.”

Suguru sat his pencil aside, any investment in his studies gone.

“When?”

“Last March.”

Suguru sighed. “And you didn’t bring this up earlier because…?”

There’s a twinkle in his companion’s sunglasses-covered eyes.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Satoru shrugged.

Liar, Suguru thought, unamused by Satoru’s faux nonchalance. He must’ve had his reasons for neglecting to mention it for so long. Suguru figured your impending trip home had something to do with Satoru’s ‘miraculously’ cured amnesia.

“What? Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

The provocation failed to irk him. Instead, Suguru refocused the conversation.“Tell me your impression of her.”

Satoru stilled, threw his feet atop Suguru’s desk, and placed his hands on his neck. “About what you’d expect from a disgraced daughter of an influential clan. Bad-tempered, tattooed, pierced up… hah! Bet her old man would go into cardiac arrest if he saw her.”

“Satoru,” he implored.

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” The white-haired sorcerer complained. “I misread her. She got all mopey after she fessed up about Cursed Technique: Null. I wrote it off as envy. The student exceeding the master, or whatever.”

Satoru remained silent for a moment. “Post Kaizu, though, I assume the feeling actually gnawing at her… ”

Kaizu.

Panicked phone calls. Satoru’s agitated exclamations. His horrified silence. Your breathing faded, theirs accelerated. You looked so small. So human. He scarcely believed the limp girl cradled in his arms just executed such a devastating maneuver. Your cursed energy had exceeded any output he’d felt from you before. It was too much, your body wasn’t ready to endure a spike like that.

Suguru had never felt so distant from the title ‘strongest.’

At some point later on, in a hospital waiting room, Suguru posed a question.

Satoru heard him yet offered no response.

“Who taught her how to do that?”

“... was guilt.”)

“You didn’t visit her.”

Akane blinks.

“Hah?”

“You didn’t visit her,” Suguru repeats, his tone firmer. “[First]. Your student.”

She exhales shakily. Suguru thinks she looks tired.

“If you have something to say, just come out with it already.”

He was prepared to wear her down for hours — this willing cooperation saves him time. Although, it doesn’t make navigating the volatile minefield that lies ahead any easier. He knows how to rein Satoru in when he’s going too far. He can fluster you without giving too much of himself away. After rescuing someone from a curse, he knows the exact pitch, timbre, and tempo necessary to pierce through their abject horror. He’s a virtuoso at playing people, a conductor hidden amidst the audience.

Deceit. Misdirection. Coercion.

His repertoire is expansive and ever-growing.

From what he can see — what he can feel — the prodigal daughter before him boasts a similar discography. She returns his unflinching eye contact as if issuing a challenge. Daring him to use dubious methods that might work on anyone else. This obstinate resolve reminds him of you. Once you’ve determined your course, even he struggles to change the route.

He abandons all pretense.

“You didn’t want her here,” he theorizes. Akane’s face reveals nothing. “You knew something like that was bound to happen.”

Sorcerers aren’t only at war with curses. No, there’s an inner battle that must be fought as well. The recognition that the next assignment could be your last. And if it is, you won’t be commemorated by the masses; to them, you don’t exist. Your sacrifice will be known to a select few who mourn you, or a few who don’t. Everything could go right. Everything could go wrong. Engaging in that high risk for such a low reward goes against one’s self-preservation instincts.

How each sorcerer handles this fight is unique to them.

As for your strategy — you refuse to acknowledge this conflict exists.

Paradoxically enough, that functions as your self-preservation.

Akane smiles thinly. She’s almost his reflection, in that regard.

“Full marks.”

Suguru idly observes as Satoru paces back and forth, his troubled figure illuminated by a row of vending machines.

A nearby street lamp flickers. It’s late, but the local convenience stores glow with artificial light, tempting customers to come inside. Some are weary salarymen grabbing ready-made meals, others are middle schoolers clinking their change together, praying they can afford a sugary treat. The latest group cheers, indicating their triumph.

The duo receives odd looks — thanks to their school uniforms, no doubt — not that they pay the judgment any mind. No one troubles them. Not even a wandering policeman, who, under normal circumstances, would scold minors out by themselves at night.

Suguru theorizes that Satoru’s ominous aura is what subconsciously repels them.

Earlier today, Suguru bid farewell to his parents and boarded a train for Tokyo. As nice as it was to spend time with his family, he’d been looking forward to reuniting with you and Satoru. He amassed quite the phone bill thanks to your frequent correspondence. Nonetheless, he carried the minor debt with pride; it’s a sign you often thought about him. He planned for Satoru to assume the debt by dangling the pictures you sent his way as ransom.

His encounter with Ishimoto Akane grounded his soaring mood. This was made worse when he entered the dormitory, only to find a tight-lipped Shoko and agitated Satoru.

Shoko remarked that unlike the two of them, she’d be handling things with ‘tact,’ and retired for the evening, not wanting to catch their ‘stupidity contagion.’

It’d been hours since then. That time stretch brought them closer to revealing the complete picture, but a few pieces remained missing or incomplete.

The frenetic sorcerer stills and rummages around in his pocket.

Suguru takes the opportunity to break the silence. “I—”

He cuts himself off as Satoru whips out a familiar-looking chapstick. The cutesy design befitting your aesthetic stands out like a sore thumb in Satoru’s large, calloused hands.

“... Where did you get that?”

“[First]’s room,” is Satoru’s response, spoken nonchalantly whilst applying it to his lips. “Why?”

Suguru snorts. Sometimes Satoru’s ungodly strength blinds him to the fact that he’s still a teenage boy.

“Won’t she notice it’s missing?”

“I replaced it.”

“Ah.”

“She has plenty more in the drawer beneath her vanity if you want one.”

Suguru knows the exact spot Satoru’s referring to. They both helped you assemble it (Satoru got bored fifteen minutes in and fell asleep on your bed but still claims credit).

After noting this suggestion, he asks, “Have you calmed down?”

Satoru barks out a ‘hah!’ as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke. “Me? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?”

Suguru massages his temples, sensing the looming headache that awaits him. “Satoru…”

“We could follow her residuals, you know,” Satoru suggests. He tips his sunglasses down, revealing eyes that gleam with predatory intent. “With the Six Eyes, it’d be a walk in the park.”

“And then what?”

“Oh, you know, chat about the weather, latest political scandals, that sort of thing.”

“You can’t strong-arm yourself through everything in life, Satoru,” Suguru chastises.

Satoru opens and closes his lips. He folds his arms, scrunches his eyebrows together, and rapidly taps his foot. The shift puts Suguru at ease. Satoru adopts this countenance on the rare occurrence he’s faced with a formidable threat. The serious, almost somber visage speaks to his ironclad resolve. Suguru may have told his companion that he can’t strong-arm himself through everything, but that’s a half-truth; the Gojo clan’s pride can do whatever he pleases.

It’s consideration of the aftermath that Suguru wishes to instill in his companion. Tempering the arrogance of a God is no easy feat.

“... She isn’t going anywhere,” Satoru declares, as if any other outcome was blasphemous.

“She isn’t,” Suguru agrees. Then, he lowers his voice, adding, “We can’t disregard what Ishimoto-san is getting at, though.”

“Simple — all our girl needs is a good ol’ fashioned intervention.”

“An ‘intervention,’” Suguru deadpans. “Didn’t you already try that?”

Satoru smiles in a way Suguru can only describe as dopey, reminiscing on the night you got ‘mad at him for wanting you to be mad at him.’ That’s how Suguru interpreted the detailed account Satoru gave the next morning, anyway.

(“I wish she would’ve cried, just a little bit; it would’ve made her look extra cute,” Satoru cooed, to which Suguru shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’d make her cry just so you could wipe her tears away.”)

Suguru shakes his head. “Here’s what I think — the self-sacrifice in and of itself isn’t the problem. Well, the main problem. There has to be a reason, something personal… identifying that takes priority.”

A gust rips through the narrow street, howling as it terrorizes store signs and doors with weak hinges. The two strongest sorcerers remain oblivious to the drift. What occupies their mind is greater than any force of nature, insignificant or otherwise. They have the means to challenge natural phenomena itself. And they would, should they deem it an obstacle to their goals. This single-minded determination is what elevates them beyond the rest.

“I guess the old man has a soft spot for us after all,” Satoru says, referring to Yaga, Suguru guesses.

Breathlessly, he chuckles. “Maybe.”

Studying Satoru from his peripherals, he silently mulls over the far likelier reality—

—that Yaga understands Satoru’s potential for saving this world is matched only by his capacity to condemn it.

From a young age, Ieri Shoko found irony everywhere she looked.

It’s prevalent in the medical field she wishes to pursue. When stabbed, it’s better to leave the knife in than immediately pull it out. For an immune system to better defend itself from a virus, it must first be exposed to it in trace amounts. If an appendage becomes too infected, removing that piece of the body is better than keeping it whole. It was you who pointed out this theme extends into the world of jujutsu.

“You’d think fighting to survive a curse instead of defeating it would be an okay alternative, right?” You had said. “But really… that just means someone else gets to foot the bill. All ‘cause you cheaped out.”

She regrets not asking you to elaborate. At the time, the observation felt so personal, so intimately interwoven with who you are, that she thought it best to leave it alone.

Watching you now, lounging on the swing beside her, she’s determined not to repeat her previous mistake.

“Tired?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh. It sounds off. “I wasn’t meant for long flights. It takes everything out of me, y’know?”

Shoko unsuccessfully digs around her pocket for a lighter. The search ceases when she recalls its inopportune location — left behind in her dorm room in the rush to be the one who reaches you first. Not sure what else to do with her hands, she folds them onto her lap. Meanwhile, you pick at a stray thread on your jeans.

“I didn’t mean from traveling,” she clarifies.

“Hm?”

“How many curses did you exorcise back home?”

Your fingers go still.

“I dunno… a few?” You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “If I happen across them, I’m not gonna just let them run amuck. That’d be irresponsible.”

Your nonchalance comes across as forced. You may be keeping your words lighthearted, but she can tell you’ve dialed up your senses, monitoring her closely. It reminds her of a cornered mouse. It’s then that any lingering doubt over her choices leading up to this moment dispels. Resolve strengthened, she swears to make as much progress as she possible before those two catch on. She felt a bit bad lying about your flight’s time, but felt the situation justified the call.

“It feels different when they’re close to home, doesn’t it?”

Shoko’s eyes scan over the lively park before them. There’s a group of children playing with one another, some scouring the grass for bugs and others playing tag. Their guardians watch from a distance, chatting amongst themselves, likely discussing the upcoming poor weather or latest neighborhood scandals. Young couples walk hand in hand along the pathways, cheeks flushed from the joy of experiencing their first love.

“Encountering a curse is draining. Fighting them, even more so. But when they’re on a street you walk every day, or a few blocks over from your house, you can’t help but start thinking. ‘What if I hadn’t come this way? Would it have hurt people I know? People I love and care about?’”

Her eyes find yours. “‘What if it killed them?’”

You look like you’re going to be sick.

She ignores how your expression contorts her stomach and continues. “Sorcerers are in the minority, it’s true. So… fighting to survive isn’t selfish. It’s strategic.”

In the distance, the rough silhouette of two individuals grows clearer. The spotlight she commandeered grows fainter with their every step. In what remains of the fading limelight, she considers you. The CC cream that conceals the worst of your exhaustion, how your pupils dilate from high caffeine intake, then your fingers. The keys that when steepled just so, open the future for others at the cost of permanently locking yours.

She reaches over and gently squeezes your hand.

“Remember — we won’t be much help to anyone if we’re six feet under. So let’s aim to stay above ground.”

The evening sun sinks into the horizon, demanding acknowledgment in its final moments by dousing all in a fiery hue.

Your uniform absorbs the brunt of this last stand. The dark fabric devours the waning sunlight, heating you from head to toe. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were back when you walked through the torii gates lining the mountainous path. Nor when you unpacked in your dorm, stuffing your passport away until your next break, where it’ll serve you faithfully again.

Instead, it was the simple act of putting your uniform on again that made home seem far, far away.

You’d gotten used to your clothes smelling like your mother’s preferred detergent. It’s a brand you couldn’t find in Japan, sold exclusively in your home country. You wondered what meal your parents were having when you straightened out your collar. If your neighbor ever fixed that rumble their old sedan huffed out as you slipped into your tights. Whether your grandpa knew you’d landed safely when you brushed lint off your skirt.

The campus atmosphere is serene. Tengen’s barrier is a bulwark against curses, insulating you from any potential threats. Without this assurance, some part of you was always on the defensive, anticipating anything when you slept in your childhood bedroom. It siphoned away your vitality, just like Shoko pointed out.

You sniffle and kick a rock aside.

How does it always end up like this?

First Akane, now Shoko, you hug yourself. I just want to protect others. What’s so wrong with that? If I don’t, then who will?

You pause abruptly.

When Akane began mentoring you, the world as you knew it changed. Suddenly, you were given knowledge no one else was privy to, for they lacked the tools to comprehend it. You’d seen those ‘creatures’, but it was Akane that explained their malevolent nature. What they could do, the pain they inflicted, how defenseless the population at large was against them.

The shadow that this monstrous threat cast could never be outshone by light. The best you could do was create safe pockets the size of pins in the darkness. That was the extent of your hope, the most bitter pill you’ve ever swallowed.

The lingering specter of Shoko’s reassuring touch prickles along your hand.

It’s easy to forget you’re not alone anymore after fighting by yourself for so long.

Eventually, you happen upon a clearing near the school’s main grounds.

The steep inclines surround a sizable outdoor track. This area is known colloquially as the school’s training grounds. You prefer to train in a more secluded, wooded area, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for subtlety. Namely, the two prodigies who have turned the field into a colosseum that’d rival the battles of ancient Rome.

You take a seat on the grassy hill and watch what unfolds.

Your eyes can scarcely follow the blows Suguru and Satoru exchange. Their sparring sessions are unreal — blurring the very fabric of reality. Somehow, they manage all this without using cursed energy. The spectacle you’re witnessing is simply hand-to-hand combat. It’s like watching a film with skipping frames. In a matter of seconds, they can travel a hundred meters and return to their original position. Your brain struggles to process the stimuli your senses are feeding it.

They were already strong when you met them. But now? The nomenclature doesn’t exist to properly classify them.

And in the future…

There’s no telling what highs they’ll reach or the ceilings they’ll shatter.

Their light is the most dazzling you’ve ever seen.

Within a few minutes, they conclude their training session. Satoru instantly beelines toward you, whereas Suguru cycles through stretches. There’s not even a single drop of sweat on Satoru’s body as he plops to your right. He’s wearing his signature sunglasses, despite the night's looming shadow.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep or something?” Satoru asks. “It’s past your bedtime.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. He yelps out an exaggerated ‘ouch!’ rubbing the area to soothe the nonexistent wound.

Suguru approaches at a far more leisurely pace, sending a wave that you return in kind.

Satoru, not one to be forgotten, yells out, “Be careful, Suguru! She’s violent!”

“Only against those who deserve it,” Suguru replies.

Fondness blossoms inside your chest as you laugh. You’d forgotten how simple life feels around them. It’s as if when the three of you are together, you’re swallowed by a pocket dimension, isolated from everyone and everything. Permanently inhabiting this utopia is a temptation.

Satoru places his hands behind his head and lays onto the ground. “Here I am, potentially out of commission forever, without a single ounce of sympathy to show for it.”

“We could always settle in court,” you offer.

Suguru stands before you, hands on his hips. “Or he could finally figure out how to use reverse cursed technique.”

At this, Satoru shoots back up, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Last I recall, you gave yourself a headache giving it a go. At least I’m not that bad.”

“Hurdles are necessary to improve. Without any, how do you know you’re truly making progress?”

Satoru gives him a grossed-out look. “All this philosophizing is gonna turn your hair gray before you hit twenty.”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy whose hair is already white,” You point out. “What’s that say about you?”

Suguru muffles his laughter behind his hand.

Satoru’s quick to overcome his incredulity. “It says that I’m going to spoil the next volume of Inuyasha. Sesshomaru—”

You cover your ears and sprint off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you…!”

He chases after you, periodically shouting the names of the main characters right when you think he’s finished. You do your best to block out his voice, running like your life depends on it. He’s hot on your heels, cackling at your expense. After a stretch of silence, you uncover your ears, hesitantly turning around to check if he’s finished his torture.

You meet Satoru’s gaze. His lips are parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Your reflection in his dark lenses appears equally perplexed. He straightens his sunglasses and regards you with an unreadable expression.

“... You’ve gotten faster.”

The comment is so quiet, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he dismisses, waving you off. “You shoujo-loving types sure take this stuff seriously. It’s almost cultish.”

“I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who references Digimon like it’s some sorta scripture!”

“Honda Tohru is a lame heroine.”

You audibly gasp. “Wh— you take that back!”

And so it’s your turn to chase Satoru, who, for reasons unknown, is oddly knowledgeable regarding Fruits Basket.

“Could you guys be honest with me about something?”

“All depends.”

“Of course.”

Satoru and Suguru’s responses come out simultaneously, the contents offering little reassurance. You’re not sure what you expected. Nonetheless, you press past the gnawing discomfort, your conversation with Shoko a fresh memory.

“Did Akane stop by while I was gone?”

You scrutinize their countenances for involuntary reactions that might betray their inner thoughts. You begin with Satoru, who was in the middle of cleaning his sunglasses when you posed the question. His eyes, which normally brim with mischief, have an eerie calmness about them; like sheets of ice that were once choppy waters. He smiles softly and slips his lenses back into place, undoubtedly aware of the intent behind your stare.

Then there’s Suguru. He hums, as if finding your inquiry unexpected and not an inevitable point of contention. He’s a more challenging puzzle to decipher than Satoru. With the latter, you can roughly gauge the greater picture, blurry and incomplete as it may be. Suguru, on the other hand, hasn’t given you enough pieces to attempt a solution.

Satoru continues mulling over your question while Suguru responds, “Is that what’s been worrying you lately?”

So they picked up on it too, you think.

Frowning, you shift in your seat. Blades of grass tickle your thighs and you push your skirt down.

“Er… not that, specifically,” you admit. You feel like you’re surrounded by walls that know just how far to close in to give the impression you might be crushed. “I just… I’ve been thinking. About why I’m here— what I’ll go on to do. And, well…”

Much to their surprise, you stand, squeeze your eyes shut, and bow ninety degrees.

“For so long, I’ve carried this burden. The truth is, when I first learned about Null, I was relieved. I’d always have something to rely on in the worst-case scenario. But at the same time… that meant not using it could also be a mistake. You have no idea how much that scared me.”

You curl your hands up into fists. “I don’t want to think that way anymore. I see it now — have for a while, actually — strength I couldn’t even imagine before. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m in your care. If it’s alright, I want to rely on others, starting with you two.”

Your heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows.

Maybe this is selfish too, you think. But I don’t want to be alone anymore.

You hear Suguru speak your name. It isn’t until he repeats it, his tone kind yet firm, that you straighten yourself and face him.

Satoru stands further back, scratching his neck. Much to your confusion, a red flush has risen to his cheeks, extending up to his ears. Suguru corrects your staring by taking your face in his hands and redirecting your attention to him. Warmth envelops you. Your faces are inches apart, but somehow, the distance feels nonexistent, like he’s peering into your mind unhindered.

“Surely, you can dream bigger than that,” Suguru chastises.

“... Eh?”

“Do you think so little of us?” Satoru grumbles. It almost sounds like he’s pouting. Was he not listening to anything you just said? The sincerity behind your every word? Why are they both acting like you insulted them?

“Eh?!”

“I’m glad you’ve come to this realization, but… you don’t have to rely on anyone else. Just us,” Suguru takes a step back, though he keeps one hand cupping your cheek. You feel lightheaded. “After all…”

“... We’re the strongest.”

notes:

*this pun actually works decently in english ?? but akane is making a reference to how suguru sounds phonetically similar to すぐ, or sugu, which means 'soon.'

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #golden girl #my stuff

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the-winter-spider · 3 months ago

Text

What I Have | B. Barnes

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Probably the fluffiest piece ive written lol

A/N: I was listening to What I Have by Kelsea Ballerini and well here we are lol

—-

The year was 2024, over one hundred years since you were born—105, to be exact. Your life hadn’t turned out at all like you had dreamed or hoped it would.

You were supposed to marry the boy next door once the war was done. You’d picked out your wedding dress while window shopping with your best friend, even before he proposed. You made a scrapbook, meticulously curating hairstyles and makeup looks, debating over the choices as if they were the most pressing decisions in the world.

You sketched out your dream house, selecting the colors, the flowers for the front garden, and the vegetables you would surely grow in the back. You even chose the font for your new last name on the mailbox.

You had each of your children’s names picked out—three, to be exact. Two boys and one girl, you had hoped. Everything was a dream, but it seemed so close, so possible, as if it should have been a reality. You should be dead by now, having lived a full life, with your children who should have been walking the earth with their children, your grandchildren.

But everything went wrong. Literally, everything possible went wrong.

Bucky fell off a train and died. He actually fell off a train, and they declared him dead. In reality, he had lost his arm, survived the fall because Hydra had already experimented on him. They brainwashed him, like something out of a twisted fairy tale, turning him into a deadly assassin. Your beautiful, blue-eyed Bucky, your sweet Bucky, became a killer. A Bucky you would never see again, because even though he was still here, and you were so thankful for that, he would never be your Bucky again.

And then there was Steve. Of course, Steve found him, because of course! And let’s not forget that your best friend, Steve, who was once smaller than you, was injected with a serum that not only tripled his size but turned him into a superhero because, yes, apparently those needed to exist. Of course, he went off to war, driven by a need for revenge for his best friend, your fiancé Bucky. And of course, he had to be noble, going down for the cause, leading everyone to believe he was dead. But of course, he wasn’t. They found him, frozen but alive, because he was Captain America, and that’s just what happens.

And then there was you, consumed by grief, first losing the love of your life and then your best friend. You begged, on your knees, begged Howard Stark to use you as his test subject for cryogenic testing. You couldn’t bear to be here without your boys. He hesitated because he loved Steve, and he knew Steve wouldn’t want this for you. But when you threatened that if he didn’t, you would take your own life, he relented. So, of course, it worked because it was Howard, and he was a Stark. But decades passed, and the year he was supposed to wake you up, The Winter Soldier murdered him. So, as usual, you stayed frozen, but alive, until Howard’s son, Tony, found you in his father’s hidden lab.

You woke up to a world that was not your own, a century too late for the life you were supposed to live. The world had moved on, but you hadn’t. Your friends were legends now, mythologized beyond recognition. And you, well, you were the ghost of what could have been.

The years that followed were a blur of new faces, new battles, and new griefs. You tried to adapt, to find a place in this future that had no room for you. But every corner of this brave new world reminded you of the past, of the life that slipped through your fingers.

And then one day, while sifting through old boxes in Tony’s lab, you found something. It was an old, faded book, as soon as you saw the brown cover you heart dropped you knew what it was, it waa your scrapbook. The cover had an old faded photo of you, Bucky, and Steve, taken on a sunny day before the world went mad. You barely recognized the girl in the photo, with her bright smile and unbroken heart. But there she was, a relic of a time that now felt like a dream.

You realised then that maybe you didn’t belong in this world. Maybe you never did. But as long as you were here, you could try—try to make sense of the pieces left behind, to find some small measure of peace in the chaos.

And that’s exactly what you did. Even though you didn’t have the life you had once dreamed of, you still had them. And in what world does all that trauma happen, and you still end up alive with your boys?

You picked up the dusty book, holding it close to your heart, as you navigated through the compound, following the sound of laughter coming from the living room. You paused just outside the doorway, soaking in the warmth of his laugh—a sound you feared you might never hear again after Bucky began recovering from his trauma. But here it was, filling the room, and even though it wasn’t the same Bucky you knew decades ago, his laugh was unchanged, and it made your heart swell.

Rounding the corner, you saw Steve clutching his chest in joy, playfully shoving Sam, who was grinning widely.

Bucky’s eyes immediately found yours; he could always find you in any room. “Hi, doll,” he said, getting up to kiss your cheek and taking your hand to lead you to the couch.

“Hi, Buck. Hi, Stevie, Sammy,” you greeted them, settling in beside Bucky.

Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Bucky glanced down at the book in your arms. “What’s that?”

Steve’s smile faded into something more serious as he noticed the book, instantly recognizing it. “Is that what I think it is?”

You nodded, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “Stark… he kept it. I haven’t opened it yet. I thought… I thought we could do it together.”

“What is it?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued.

“It’s my life,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “There are a few pages of what I thought it would turn out to be… but after everything happened…” You paused, taking a steadying breath. The memories of losing Bucky and Steve were still fresh, no matter how much time had passed. “I never planned or dreamed of anything else. It just felt silly without you boys. So, I just filled it with photographs.”

“Photographs of who?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

“Everyone,” you replied softly, glancing between Bucky and Steve. “Peggy and Mrs. Rogers,” you said, meeting Steve’s gaze. You saw the emotion in his eyes at the mention of his mother. “Becca and Winnie, Mr. Barnes,” you continued, feeling Bucky tense slightly at the mention of his mother and sister, their faces now distant memories. “I even have Howard and the Commandos.” You smiled a little. “But mostly, it’s us—all of us.”

Bucky reached out, gently taking the book from your hands. His fingers brushed the worn cover, the room fell silent as the weight of the past settled around you all.

“Let’s open it together,” Steve suggested, his voice thick with emotion. He moved closer, his presence a steady anchor as you all gathered around the book. Sam stayed distant, letting the three of you have your moment but still staying there.

Bucky opened the cover, and the first page revealed a photograph of you, Bucky, and Steve, taken in a simpler time. The three of you looked so young, so hopeful. You felt Bucky’s hand tighten around yours as he stared at the image, memories rushing back. It was a photo from your 16th birthday, the day he had gifted you the book.

“I gave this to you,” Bucky said quietly, the realization settling over him.

You nodded. “For my birthday. You wrote…” You trailed off, pointing to the top left corner of the front of the book.

He read the words aloud, his voice filled with emotion. “Happy 16th birthday to my best girl. I hope you fill these pages with your hopes and dreams. I can only hope that somewhere in amongst them, I’ll be a part of it. With all the love, Bucky.”

Sam smiled, leaning back in his seat. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Buck?”

You watched as Bucky’s cheeks flushed a light shade of red at the comment, and you gave his knee a gentle squeeze, feeling the warmth of the old affection between you.

“For y/n, he was crazy,” Steve chimed in, grinning. “You should have seen him—head over heels is an understatement. Try obses—”

Before Steve could finish, Bucky reached behind you and gave him a playful shove. “Can it, Rogers,” he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Steve just laughed, catching himself before he toppled over. “You know it’s true.”

You chuckled, resting your head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

Bucky’s hand found yours again, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. “Neither would I.”

As you all shared a quiet moment, the weight of the years seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of old memories and the comfort of the present. Bucky turned the page, revealing more photographs—snapshots of moments that had once seemed so ordinary but now felt like treasures.

The pages turned slowly, revealing a life that could have been—a wedding dress sketched out, a house with a picket fence, names of children that never came to be. And then, the photographs—snapshots of moments frozen in time. Peggy’s bright smile, Mrs. Rogers’ kind eyes, the mischievous grins of Becca and Winnie, Howard’s confident stance, the Commandos’ camaraderie. But the most frequent faces were your own, Bucky’s, and Steve’s, from a time when the world was both simpler and infinitely more complex.

Each image told a story. There was one of you and Steve dancing at a neighbourhood block party, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand. Another showed Bucky in his military uniform, giving you a wink as he prepared to head off to basic training. Then there were pictures of Steve and Bucky goofing around, each trying to outdo the other in some silly stunt, and you caught in the middle, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same.

There were pictures of Bucky and you around the campfire on the night before everything changed—before he fell off the train. Bucky paused on that photo, his eyes lingering on it. “That was the night before…” he said softly.

You nodded, squeezing his hand, understanding the weight of those words.

“Night before what?” Sam asked, his voice gentle.

“Before I fell,” Bucky replied, those three words carrying a lifetime of pain and loss. The room grew still, the significance of that moment hanging heavy in the air. Sam didn’t say anything more, sensing the depth of emotion in Bucky’s words.

Bucky’s gaze remained fixed on the photo, his voice quiet as he continued. “It was the last time I felt so much joy… I feel it now, but it was different then.”

Steve nodded in agreement, his expression solemn. “I get it, Buck.”

“Me too,” you added, your voice trembling slightly. “I keep thinking about what was supposed to be, what should have been.” You paused, wiping a tear from your eye. “I don’t understand why it all happened the way it did—why I didn’t get the life I thought I was going to.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky whispered, his hand gently reaching out to wipe away your tears, his touch as tender as it had always been.

The room fell into a reverent silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts, the weight of your shared history settling over you like a heavy blanket. Finally, Sam spoke, his voice soft and full of understanding. “You’ve lived a hell of a life.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you wiped away a stray tear. “It wasn’t what I planned,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “But I wouldn’t trade it. Not if it meant losing this—losing you… both of you.”

Bucky’s hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “We didn’t get the life we dreamed of, but we got each other. And that’s enough.”

Steve leaned back, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “We’ve been through so much, but we’re still here. Together.”

Sam smiled, the warmth in his expression offering a quiet reassurance. “That’s what matters in the end. Not what you lost, but what you’ve kept.”

“Till the end of the line,” Steve spoke, the words heavy with emotion and depth.

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky echoed, pulling you closer to his side.

You glanced around the room at the faces of the people who had become your family—the ones who had stood by you through the darkest of times.

As the pages of the scrapbook turned, the photographs shifted from black-and-white to colour, reflecting the passage of time. The images grew fewer as the years became harder, but each one was more precious because of it.

Finally, you reached the last page, where an empty space awaited a new photograph. You looked up at Bucky and Steve, both of them gazing at the book with a mix of nostalgia and gratitude.

“You should take a new photo,” Sam suggested, his voice soft but certain. “One to mark this moment.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that melted away the years. “Yeah, we should.”

Steve grinned. “I’ll get the camera.”

As Steve stood to retrieve a camera, you leaned into Bucky, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand. This was the life you had, and it was more than enough. The empty space in the book was no longer a reminder of what was lost, but a promise of what was yet to come—a new chapter, filled with love, laughter, and the people who mattered most.

Sam took the camera from Steve, ready to take the picture. But just as he was about to snap the shot, you paused. “Wait!”

“What? You don’t have food in your teeth, but your hair…” Sam teased with a smirk.

“Well, I was going to say I want you in the picture too, but…” You trailed off

“No, no! I’m sorry, you’re beautiful… perfect—”

“Sam, watch it, that’s my girl,” Bucky warned, a protective edge to his voice.

Sam rolled his eyes, chuckling. “The whole world knows that, Buck.” He placed the camera on the tripod and took a seat beside Steve. “You sure you want me in this?”

“Of course, Sammy! You’re one of us now,” you insisted, smiling warmly at him.

Sam’s expression softened, and he nodded, touched by your words. As the camera clicked, capturing the four of you together, you knew that this was the memory that would fill that final page—the proof that even after everything, you still had your boys, old and new, and they still had you.

The book might never hold the life you once dreamed of, but it would hold the life you had lived—the one you had fought for, the one you had loved.

And that was more than enough.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky banres #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james barnes x you #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic

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slytherinslut0 · 1 year ago

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Four- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Jealousy, TomRiddle, weaponizing!Tom (slightly?), Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

"Outstanding, naturally," you said, your voice laced with confidence and your grin so wide it seemed to stretch beyond the boundaries of your face. "Must you even ask?"

The morning sunlight filtered through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, casting a warm glow over the room as you and your friends gathered for breakfast. Emily, your blonde-haired friend that you've known since your very first day here, couldn't help but to snicker at your bluntness, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

It’d been almost two weeks since you’d last met with Mattheo, since there was no tutor session last week due to your exam in Advanced Magical Studies. Admittedly, you were thankful for the break.

"Is there any subject where you don't get perfect grades?" Your other friend Michael said, widened eyes glancing at your marked exam in your hands. "You're a natural born Ravenclaw prodigy...I don't know how you do it, I simply can't wrap my head around it."

Emily, in between bites, nodded vigorously, her admiration evident. "It's true, you seem to effortlessly ace every bloody class. Meanwhile, I'm literally up to my neck in notes, struggling away in hopes of achieving a Meets Expectations."

"Come on, Emily," you said, sitting up a bit taller in your seat. "You earned an Outstanding on the exam too. Your intelligence and dedication are remarkable. You give yourself far too little credit."

She shrugged, taking a moment to chew her food thoughtfully. "Maybe," she conceded, her eyes briefly meeting yours. "But your brilliance seems innate, effortless. It's both inspiring and, I must admit, a tad infuriating."

The corners of her lips twitched into a half-smile, acknowledging the mix of admiration and friendly jealousy in her words. You couldn't help but to blush at her compliments, feeling proud of just how much your intense studies over the years have paid off. Your friends know just how much of your life you've dedicated to your education, and that by this point--after grinding away for years and years, the knowledge was just seamless to you. It just came naturally.

"Good morning, my dear students," came a gentle yet resonant voice from directly behind you, shattering the comfortable silence. "And how might you find yourselves on this delightful, sun-filled morning?"

As you turned, you were met with the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore, his warm presence enveloping the room with ease.

You rose from your seat, your hands clasped together in front of you. "Good morning, Professor; it's always a pleasure to see you. I'm wonderful, how about yourself?"

Your friends gave similar responses, each earning an attentive nod.

"Very good, very good," Dumbledore's voice resonated warmly, his eyes crinkling with a kind smile. "Thank you all."

His gaze shifted to you, a mix of gentleness and concern in his eyes. "I would be grateful for a moment of your time in my office, if you could spare it. It concerns your peer tutoring sessions. Would you be able to join me before the day's lessons commence?”

A sickening twist gripped your stomach, causing your once radiant smile to shatter into fragments. You battled to shield your fear, but it threatened to consume you--every horrifying possibility flooding your mind in a torrent.

Your eyes were drawn involuntarily across the room, zeroing in on the Slytherin table, only to find the devil himself, Mattheo Riddle, the harbinger of your academic ruin--was already fucking staring, smug arrogance practically radiating off of him as he relished your clear discomfort. His calculating gaze felt like a vulture circling its prey, keenly observing every nuance of your nervous demeanour--and you were certain you were about to collapse to the floor.

Snapping yourself from your trance, you returned your eyes to your Professor, mustering up the best fake smile you possibly could. "Absolutely, Professor--it's no trouble at all."

"Wonderful," he smiled, nodding. "Shall we?"

With a subtle nod, he gracefully guided you out of the Great Hall, your fingers tightly clutching the strap of your bag after bidding your friends goodbye. Your heart raced in your chest, the anticipation of the impending conversation tightening its grip on your every nerve. You trailed closely behind Dumbledore, the echo of your footsteps blending with the murmur of distant conversations.

As you approached the Hall's exit, Dumbledore's movements came to an abrupt halt. He spun around with a swift grace, his piercing eyes sweeping across the tables like a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog, searching for someone specific amidst the bustling sea of students.

And when his searching gaze finally landed on the person he sought, he outstretched his arm, a subtle wave beckoning them to follow. Your eyes widened in complete horror as Riddle stood up, tossing his bag over his shoulder with an air of arrogant nonchalance. Slowly, he began making his way toward you, his every step seemingly echoing off the walls of your mind.

The lot of you moved briskly, following Dumbledore to his office, Mattheo not deigning to acknowledge your existence except for the few brief, unsettling glances he kept throwing your way, a knowing smirk plastered across his face, practically casting a shadow of impending doom over your academic future.

As you entered Dumbledore's office, your heart continued to race with fear, the heavy weight of impending disaster hanging over you like a storm cloud. Dumbledore gestured for you and Riddle to sit down, the creaking of the chairs adding to the palpable tension in the room. You could hardly bear to look at Riddle, certain that his presence here meant he had failed the exam. Your post-graduate career seemed destined to crumble before it even began.

Your mind spun with catastrophic thoughts, the urge to throw up from nerves clawing at your throat. Just as you prepared yourself for the devastating news, Dumbledore's voice cut through the suffocating silence like a lifeline.

"Well, I must be frank, and I hope you won't take offense, Mister Riddle," his tone was incisive, his words carrying a weight of honesty. "I didn't harbor high hopes for substantial improvement in your academic pursuits when you commenced this new tutoring arrangement. Considering your history and the difficulty you faced in finding a suitable mentor, my expectations were rather restrained."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning, nerves screaming in fear as Dumbledore spoke. His gaze was penetrating, his words hanging heavily in the air. He straightened in his chair, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"However, it is entirely safe to say that I was beyond pleased when I found out that you had achieved an 'Exceeds Expectations,' on your recent exam--which, if I may point out, is your highest grade thus far."

Your mind reeled, struggling to grasp the reality of the situation. Dumbledore's words echoed in your ears, and your jaw dropped in utter shock.

"Exceeds expectations," you repeated, your eyes wider than the sun and just as blaring. "Exceeds expectations! Mattheo, that's amazing!"

When you glanced at Mattheo, his eyes practically glimmered with a peculiar mix of pride and smug arrogance. His confident smirk persisted, etched on his features as he reclined casually in the chair beside you, choosing to remain silent; but you both knew exactly what the other was thinking.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval as he continued. "Your efforts in guiding Mister Riddle have not only benefited him but also showcased your exceptional skills as a tutor. It's a rare talent to break through someone's barriers, especially someone as formidable as he...I encourage both of you to continue this fruitful collaboration, nurturing each other's potential to the fullest."

You were gleaming. Screaming. On the verge of tears. This felt like a miracle, like music to your ears. The surge of emotions threatened to overwhelm you; you wanted to run until your legs gave out, to kiss Mattheo's stupidly infuriating face until it was raw. This was all you had ever wanted, more than anything else in the world.

"Thank you so much Professor," you beamed, your voice filled with excitement. "Your encouragement means more to me than you could ever begin to imagine."

"No, thank you, dear," Dumbledore said, a benevolent smile gracing his features. "Oh, and since I have you here, I was actually wondering if you'd be interested in joining the Hogwarts Mentorship Guild. Currently, it's coincidentally being overseen by Mister Riddle's brother, Tom...I do believe it would be an immensely beneficial experience for you. It's quite selective, but with my personal recommendation, your entry would be assured. You'd have weekly meetings with Tom and the other members-"

Every word that fell from Dumbledore's lips ignited an exhilarating flutter in your chest, a surge of excitement threatening to crack your ribcage open and pierce through your heart. The prospect of joining the prestigious club had been a cherished dream for years, and now, the reality of it was overwhelming. You basked in the euphoria, savoring the moment, until Mattheo's voice abruptly shattered the joy that had filled your soul.

"Professor, if I may," Mattheo spoke up, his tone surprisingly earnest as he straightened in his chair; his jaw tensed and his eyes dark. "I was actually wondering if she could tutor me in Potions as well...I could definitely use the help...it's been rough, to say the least."

His request hung in the air, creating a pause charged with unexpected tension. The elation that had filled you moments ago now mingled with apprehension as Dumbledores gaze darted between the two of you, his demeanour shifting as he leaned back in his chair.

"That would be up to her, Mister Riddle...I would imagine you'd struggle with doing all three, my dear witch...how about you think on it, and get back to me in a weeks time with what you'd prefer to do, yes?"

With anger simmering beneath your skin, you nodded and mustered a fake smile as you stood up. You extended your hand, shaking Dumbledore's firmly, concealing the turmoil within you. After exchanging polite goodbyes, assuring him of your prompt response, you spun on your heels with a sense of urgency that left Mattheo in your dust. Ignoring his calls that faded into the distance, you marched toward your dorm room, determined to shut out the world and the infuriating presence of Mattheo Riddle.

Right now, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him--nothing at all. But of course, he wasn't having that.

The heavy, urgent pounding on your door reverberated through the room, rattling your bones and intensifying your annoyance. Mattheo's relentless assault on the door seemed never-ending, refusing to halt for even a moment. Fearing the spectacle he might create in the hallway and the questions it would spark among your peers, you reluctantly decided to put an end to the commotion.

With a surge of anger-fueled determination, you swung the door open, gripping a fistful of his tie between your infuriated fingers as you pulled him inside. The door slammed shut behind him, the noise echoing your frustration, and you kept your grasp on his tie, shoving his back up against the wood of your door.

"Potions?" you hissed, your voice laced with seething anger as you pressed against him. "In the name of the four fucking founders, Riddle, potions?"

He blinked, clearly startled by the intensity of your rage. "What-"

"You're about to shatter one of my lifelong dreams just because you can't handle a cauldron and some bloody ingredients?" you spat through gritted teeth, eyes burning with fury. "Are you genuinely that hopelessly inept?"

Your response was met with a suffocating silence, his lips parting as if searching for words that never materialized. His jaw clenched, his eyes darting away briefly, a clear sign of his inner turmoil. The weight of his silence only fueled the blaze of your anger.

"Haven't you taken enough from me?" you hissed, the emotion in your tone nearly tangible. "Haven't you wreaked sufficient havoc on my life?"

Mattheo's eyes darkened, his irises smoldering with unspoken fury as he silently wrestled with his words. His fists clenched at his sides, the intensity of his emotions evident, yet the silence persisted. You could practically feel the weight of his suppressed anger hanging heavily in the air.

"You really have nothing to fucking say, do you?" you spat, your voice sharp with disappointment. "The arrogant Slytherin prince, always ready with a cutting remark, suddenly struck dumb when he's called out...how utterly predictable."

You scoffed, your frustration mounting as his inability to respond only fueled the fire of your own indignation.

"You're unbelievable." You said, finally releasing his tie and spinning away from him, moving across the room with deliberate pace before you spun back around, meeting his dark eyes from against the opposite wall. "I'm happy that your grades are improving under my guidance but I think you'll have to find someone else to tutor you in potions...I'm sorry, Mattheo."

Riddle blinked, stepping forward. "I don't need help in potions."

You paused. You weren't sure if you'd even heard him correctly. "What?"

"I don't need help in potions." He repeated, taking another step.

"You don't-" your brows pinched, your words falling short as Mattheo veered closer. "But you-"

"My grades are bad, yeah," he said, voice low and hoarse. "But I'm not failing. And I certainly don't need a tutor."

Your chest constricted. You weren't following him. "Then why? Why'd you say that to Dumbledore?"

He inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw locking with tension. Swallowing hard, his throat worked as he landed himself roughly an arms length away from you, his eyes darker than the midnight sky and twice as intense.

"Because," he said, taking a singular step closer. "I don't want you anywhere near him."

His words slammed your chest so hard you almost fell over. "Excuse me?"

"My brother," he said, his tone flat and unwavering. "I don't want you anywhere fucking near my brother."

Your jaw dropped, the air catching in your lungs. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions engulfed you, each one sparking a fire in your core that you desperately wished to ignore. Your head spun, torn between the lingering anger and the new surge of shock and disbelief at his words.

"You're not serious..." you spat, peering up at him as he loomed over you, hastily taking a step back to create some distance between you. "Riddle, please tell me you're fucking joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he replied, his expression carved from stone, taking another step closer and erasing the space you had just tried to create. "Huh, Raven? Do I?"

Anger swelled inside you, clouding your vision. "You've lost your fucking mind," you said, your voice dropping so low you weren't even sure if he'd heard you. "You're being controlling, Mattheo. That's...you can't just..."

Mattheo tilted his head, backing you up against the wall, a predatory glint in his eyes that made your stomach flip. "I can't, what?"

Your throat went dry, his hands pressing against the wood on either side of your head. "You can't just-"

Your words were cut short as Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "Can't what, Raven?" he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Go on, spit it out."

Gods, curse him. Curse him to bloody hell.

"You can't just control my life like you own it, Mattheo," you whispered against his lips, ignoring the fiery desire that flared within you, something you fought fiercely to suppress. "Outside of that classroom, you don't hold any power over me."

Mattheo's lips curled into a sly, taunting smile, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Oh, Raven," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper, "you have no idea how wrong you are...inside that classroom or out, you're mine to control...I believe I've proven that today--you'd have never gotten the offer to join that fucking club if it wasn't for my improved grades."

You scowled, your back pressing firmly against the wall as his lips trailed down to your jawline. Frustration mingled with desire, a dangerous combination that sent your senses reeling.

You cursed yourself inwardly, loathing the way your resolve seemed to crumble under his touch. Why did a boy this bad have to look so fucking sweet? Why did a boy this bad for you have to taste so fucking good?

"No...you're wrong, Mattheo..." you whispered, your voice trembling, trying to inject conviction into your words despite the turmoil inside you. "You're so fucking wrong."

"Am I, Raven?" He teased, his voice smug, one hand shifting to cup the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. "So you're saying, that if I told you to get on your knees for me, right now in the middle of your dorm room like my good little whore, you wouldn't do it?" His lips grazed your ear, your lids fluttering involuntarily. "Or...if I told you to take off your shirt so I could cum all over those beautiful fucking tits of yours, you'd say no...hm?"

Your breath caught in your throat, his touch and words igniting a fierce battle within you. As much as you knew the next words form your lips were an entire fucking lie, you simply couldn't help yourself. Merlin knows your body and mind were betraying you, all you had left was your mouth--which was never known to go down without a fight.

"That's right, Riddle..." you whispered, your voice barely audible, betraying the tremor in your resolve. "I'd say no...one million times over I'd say no..."

Mattheo groaned, the noise reverberating down your spine as he breathed it directly into your eardrum. Your thighs screamed in need at the sound--your stomach flipping as his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your neck.

"And if I asked you to kiss me?" He murmured, his intense gaze locking onto yours. "Would you still say no then?"

Your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could hear it. "I...I would..."

"Yeah?" He said, his voice a sultry whisper, wetting his lips as he glimpsed yours. "You sure about that, Raven?"

Your lungs sputtered, trying your best to keep your composure as you nodded, glimpsing his lips now. "I'm sure, Mattheo..."

His nails dug into your neck, every inch of your body ablaze as your gaze darted between his dark, intoxicated eyes and his plush, inviting lips. You cursed yourself, the internal struggle fierce and unrelenting. You cursed yourself so intensely, you could almost taste the bitterness of your own self-reproach.

"Mm." He hummed, grazing his lips over yours with feather like precision, before he pulled back. "And what would I have to do to change your mind, huh? Do you want me to fucking beg, princess?"

A low, desperate sound escaped your lips, a primal mewl reverberating in your chest. "That might help..." you breathed. "Maybe if you got on your knees while you did, it'd be far more effective..."

"Fuck...I've created a monster, haven't I..." he huffed, smirk teasing his perfect fucking lips, both hands falling to your hips as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you. "A beautiful, slutty little monster..."

You were speechless, body blazed with desire, torn between the intense pull in his eyes and the irresistible temptation of his lips. Holy fucking hell you wanted to kiss him so unbelievably bad, you weren't sure how much longer you could continue playing this little game; the desire only strengthening as he ran his hands along your curves, rough palms smoothing down your thighs as he peered up at you--chocolate curls sitting messy over his forehead, his dark eyes burning wounds into your flesh.

"Kiss me, Raven..." he whispered, holding your sight, voice strained weigh desire so intense it was palpable. "Please, fucking kiss me."

That did it. That absolutely did it.

Without a second thought, you bent at the waist, seizing his tie and directing his mouth to yours, your lips crashing onto his in a feverish, desperate kiss. At the passionate connection, a low moan slid past your teeth, your fingers entwining in his hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue sought entrance, and you willingly granted it, eliciting a low, primal growl from him. His hands tightened around the backs of your thighs, anchoring you in place, not daring to move an inch higher.

Mattheo nipped your bottom lip, smirking as he tugged on it gently before releasing it, blinking as he met your eyes. "I love the way you moan for me, Raven..." he purred, hands slowly moving up, slipping under your skirt. "You have no idea what I could fucking do to you."

You whimpered as his hands slid higher, gripping your ass under your skirt, his face dangerously close to your sex. Your fingers curled tightly into his hair, gripping the strands within your palms as your entire body quivered. His lips left a trail of hot, fervent kisses along your outer thigh, igniting a path of tingling sensations in their wake.

"Gods..." you moaned, unable to form any other coherent word as his hands explored and caressed places on your body that no one else had ever touched before. "Mattheo..."

"Fucking hell..." he groaned, his grip tightening. "If you do that again I might not be able to stop myself Raven...I might have to rip this fucking skirt off and make you moan my name over and over until it's the only word you remember..."

Your breath caught in your throat, your head spinning in a whirlpool of desire at his words. Every fiber of your being trembled, quivering under his touch. Mattheo pulled himself up to his feet, his hands still firmly gripping your ass as he pressed himself against you, the strength of his grip pulling your crotch against his. Even through the fabric of his trousers, you could feel his aggressive erection pressing against you.

Involuntarily, you moaned again.

"Mhm, that’s right...” Mattheo hummed, wet lips grazing your ear. "…and you say I don't have control over you..." he purred, licking a slow line up the side of your throat. "You're fucking melting for me and I've barely touched you, Raven..."

His mention of control snapped you back to your senses, not wanting your earlier anger to be neutered so easily, despite the lake pooling between your thighs for this cunning enigma of a man.

"I'm still mad at you, Mattheo..." you managed to croak out, head falling back as he pressed his lips to your neck. "You can't keep doing this...you can't keep sweet-talking me out of my anger for you.”

"Is that what you think I'm doing here?" He huffed, one hand leaving your ass and gripping your hip with enough force to shatter your bones. "Maybe I just can't keep my fucking hands off of you...maybe I like knowing I'm the only one who's ever touched you like this, the only one who's ever fucked your throat and seen those perfect tits of yours...maybe I don't like sharing...maybe I don't like the thought of my brother getting you alone and trying to take what's mine..."

You whimpered, chest constricting. "And you told me not to get attached?" You said, ignoring the burning, screaming flames that ignited at his admission. "You're utterly delusional...I'm not your fucking toy-"

“Yes you are.” He huffed, a deviant grin crawling over his lips. "And believe me, I'm not attached, princess..." he said. "I'm possessive, and there's a fucking difference. I know my brother...I know exactly how he operates."

"If it's anything like how you do, then I can understand your concern." You scoffed, not even attempting to hide your smirk. "But I'm not a child, I don't need protection. And believe me when I tell you, one irritating Riddle man in my life is more than enough."

His jaw tensed at your words, and he loosened his grip, almost fully releasing you, but not quite. "You can do all three."

You paused, lips parting, but he cut you off, sensing your incoming confusion. "Tutoring me in advanced magical studies and potions…plus the stupid club. You can do all three."

"What?" You were dumbfounded, nearly speechless. "I-I can't, Riddle...Dumbledore said-"

"He's only saying that because he thinks you'd actually have to tutor me in potions...we can just make him think you are...imagine how impressed he'll be when you tell him-"

"Oh, Mattheo! That's brilliant!" You beamed, excitement filling your eyes, all of your earlier anger and concern and disappointment seemingly flowing from your flesh, dissipating into the charged air. You gripped his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek, smirking as you pulled back. "You really changed your mind rather quickly."

"I see how much it upset you." He shrugged, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to interfere with your goals, Raven. I just want you to know that even though he's my brother, I won't refrain from kicking his fucking ass if he tries anything."

Your jaw fell open like you wanted to reply, but words would fail you, and he smirked. “Tell Dumbledore you’ll do it. And I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Without giving you the chance to respond, he spun around, briskly making his way out of your dorm without another bloody word--leaving you entirely at a loss, unable to comprehend what the hell just happened.

————

CHAPTER FIVE->

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