#or if you would be uncomfortable with that i guess let me know that instead so it can just stay on the blog :)

[lightlycareless]

the jealous y/n i promised. one of them, anyways :)

warnings: naoya used to like someone before you. the thought of it makes you... uncomfortable, by some reason. highschool au. minimal proofreading but sometimes you just gotta let things go...

It all started because someone decided they just had to mess with you on your first trip to Kyoto, during your first school exchange event.

As yearly intended, the game would be hosted on the winning school; not that someone managed to defeat Gojo and Geto, but to shake things a bit the higher ups decided to break the rules and give the opposing school a chance—maybe fighting in their hometowns would help against them.

Coincidentally, this would mark your first time participating, and what better way to do so than by going to a city you’ve never been to?

We’re you excited?

Undoubtedly. How could you not consider these past details?

However, that wasn’t the only (not the most important) notion that had you feeling such way; what actually got you all giddy was the fact that you’d be going with your boyfriend! Which secretly turned this school trip into a small holiday of sorts, a promise of a good time once he offered to take you to the city and show you all kinds of enthralling experiences you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

It was bound to become a memorable visit, one that you wouldn’t be able to forget, worthy enough to share with your eventual children!

And it was… but not for the reasons you expected.

“Ooooh, you know what this trip actually means, right Y/N?” Gojo would begin to stir, as usual. You do your best to ignore him. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m just warning you, it’s going to be awkward.”

��Awkward?” You blink, taking his bait. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t say it, Satoru…” Geto warns, going against his very nature, which is to rile him further, and instead, showing genuine caution that you’d come to lament later on. “You’re just being cruel.”

“What is? Tell me!” You cry, fallen victim to your curiosity.

“Probably not as cruel as Naoya taking his girlfriend to see his crush. Or past crush, I guess.”

“Crush…?” You blink, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought of his affections once belonging to someone else. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. Whatever happened before you met him should be beyond your concern.

And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from torturing yourself with the thought, needlessly wondering who was the lucky girl to previously obtain his attention.

Was she nice? Was she pretty? Did anything manage to happen between the two…?

…

…

Does she look like you?

You ought to know better than to ask questions you do not want answered.

“Naoya hasn’t told you?” Satoru worried. “He used to have this huge crush on Utahime, like you don’t imagine how big it was; he’d stalk her everywhere she went, turn all red whenever she was near—“

“Satoru!” Suguru condemned, but it was too late.

It’s safe to say you no longer looked forward to your trip to Kyoto.

“She was going to learn so anyways, might as well get it over with!”

“And?? That doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot about it!”

“I’m just preparing Y/N! It’s not my fault that Naoya hasn’t told her about it… which is quite suspicious if you ask me, more so since he’s been in contact with her quite recently! Did you know he asked me for her number? I think he might not be over—“

“Do you ever shut up, Satoru?” You coldly interject, retreating soon after before the tears forming in your eyes could further humiliate you.

Suguru was right, there was no need for him to be as imprudent when it came to the relationship you were clearly very happy with; but you should’ve not let his behavior affect you either, that’s just how he is—everyone knew that—since he was a little kid.

Satoru just had this need to make everyone miserable simply because he could; but now that your insecurities were stirred, all you could do was revisit Naoya’s enthusiasm for your visit… and tie it with Utahime.

Overanalyze every interaction you had with him and wonder if he ever imagined it was her instead of you.

Like when he complimented you for appearance, called you cute when decorating your hair with a bow, which after Satoru’s bold accusations, you come to find it might’ve been because of nostalgia, longing. Not because Naoya actually meant it.

Utahime’s beautiful, there's no denying that.

She's also taller than you, brighter, determined; with no patience for nonsense yet kind enough to help others when asked. You should know, on the few occasions you’ve had the opportunity to interact with her, she was nothing but gentle when explaining one of the assignments you were struggling with—even offering to tutor you if you continued to have questions.

Undoubtedly, a perfect match for Naoya; both politically and personally. A conclusion that makes your poor heart ache the longer you keep comparing yourself to her.

No one looks at her and thinks “she's too childish” or “she's unsuited for the life of sorcery”. In fact, she’s the type of person one would go to when in trouble, the one to look for when in need of comfort.

While you… well, you’re funny. And apparently, a bit childish too. But definitely not the hope for the next generation of sorcerers.

When weighing all these alleged facts, and after placing Utahime on a pedestal while desecrating your own worth, you question…

Did Naoya settle on you because he couldn't end up with her?

Or were you simply a steppingstone, a diversion while they reunite in the future?

…

…

…

Are you fated to never be good enough by yourself? Everyone’s second choice when their initial plan doesn’t work?

It's not something you'd discern at a simple glance, but when Naoya begins to act more and more secretive the closer the date of your trip got, the more you're inclined to believe so; his distance had been so glaringly obvious that the only time you’ve managed to spend with him was when accidentally bumping into each other in the hallways when going to your next class.

Still, your stubborn heart gave him one last chance. One more opportunity to deny all the ridiculous claims plaguing your mind and realize that the sole reason he’s glued to his phone is because of his family, tending his responsibilities as heir…

And not because he’s seeking another woman.

“Ah, Y/N… I'm a little behind with some of my projects right now so I don't think I'll be able to join you for lunch… but don’t let that stop you, go ahead, eat something. I wouldn't want my princess to starve because of me”

That’s when everything made sense.

Because Naoya, though he may hate paperwork, essays, and all that deviated from exorcizing curses, he was still an excellent student and always delivered on time. Might’ve coerced someone to do his work from time to time when not in the mood, but it still brought you back to the same conclusion.

A realization that sparked your anger, bitterness—jealousy.

But most importantly, sadness.

Which you could no longer hide the fateful day of your trip.

“Wait, Y/N—! Why are you in such a rush? We’re still on time for the train!” Naoya would say after catching up to you. The two had previously agreed to meet up just outside your dorm and go to the train station together from there; but alas, you were nowhere to be seen when he eventually arrived, and this caused him to be very surprised.

After all, you were virtually inseparable from him; you would’ve spent the night with him if only it wasn’t prohibited. So… why the sudden indifference?

One could only try to be compassionate when remembering this was his first, serious relationship, so there were many things he had yet to learn about having a girlfriend and how to treat her.

It’s just a misfortune he’d come to learn that lesson harshly so.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you frown, ignoring Naoya as you continue to pull your suitcase towards the exit. The faculty gave students two options, either take the provided transportation and ride with the rest of your classmates to the train station or go by yourself.

Solitude was only appetizing with the silent turmoil you carried.

Your boyfriend doesn't say much after that, though he does note the striking difference of your usually bubbly personality with this… muted version of his girlfriend.

When you once harbored excitement to travel to a completely new city, you now… well, it looked as if you'd rather get sick than do this. And it didn’t seem to be caused by anxiety either, he’d seen you nervous and this was not the way you behaved when such.

Not exactly the disposition he hoped for today's happening, and yet, he’s still light years away from figuring why!

Was it better to simply… leave you alone?

“Y/N, let me help you.” he decides otherwise, at least your stubbornness is something he’s familiar with and thus, not easily swayed to back off when you ignore him again. “Princess—”

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. “I said I'm fine, now leave me alone!”

Naoya blinks, at first startled by your sudden outburst, before growing irritated, never one to enjoy being lashed out on—less if it came from someone as important as you.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!’ Naoya scorns, trying to get a hold of your hand only for you to dismiss him again. “I'm just trying to help you!”

“Yeah, right. Just to get there quicker, huh?” you frown.

“I mean, is that not ideal?”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Huh??? Will you at least care to explain why you’re so moody out of the sudden??”

His choice of dismissing words stabs your heart in a sharp, painful way that only serves to ignite your anger even more. Naoya really had no idea, did he?

Or did he believe you were as naïve as he desperately intended to portray you?

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all! In fact, how about I just step aside so you can do everything you want in Kyoto? Go see who you want to see while I stay behind, quiet, so you won't have to worry about me?!”

“But—what?? Did you forget were supposed to spend time together over there?? Show you the city?!” Naoya exclaims. “What happens to that??”

“I don't know, you tell me!” You cry back. “No, you know what, don't tell me. I don't feel like hearing—”

“Oh, no you're not.” Naoya says, take ahold of your arm and forcing you to see him face to face—getting a good look of your red, swollen eyes from undoubtedly spending the whole night crying, that only made his determination to find out what ailed you even stronger.

And deal with whomever was responsible for this dreadful act.

Even if it was yourself, or unwittingly himself too.

“We're going to spend two hours on a bullet train which I don't intend to have by you ignoring me through the entirety of it.” He goes on.

“Naoya—”

“Who did this to you? Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they—”

“Just stop it already! You don't have to set up all these… theatrics just so you can feel less guilty about seeing her!”

“Her?” He breathes, of all things you could’ve sputtered, this is the least, most shocking one he could’ve received. Where did you even get this idea?? “Pray tell, who am I seeing?”

“I don't—I don't want to talk anymore.”

“Y/N!” Naoya exclaims, you flinch—a reaction that has him immediately regretting his act, softening his voice. “I can't help but feel there's a sort of misunderstanding here, just tell me what's going on… Please.”

“...I just want to know if you— if you still harbor feelings for that person before me?”

“Huh?” Naoya frowns. “Talk clearly, mochi. I don't understand a word you're saying—”

“I'm asking if you still like the girl you liked before me!” You cry. “Or perhaps never stopped liking…”

“Who did I like?” He asks back, genuinely confused.

“Are you going to make me say it?!”

“I mean, if we're to get anywhere.”

“Fine! I’m referring to Utahime! You like her, don't you?!”

“Uta—what?? Where did you get that idea?!”

“Don't—don’t act like you don't know what I'm talking about!” You insist. “Satoru told me…”

“Ah, and he's nothing but a reliable source, isn't he?”

“Suguru confirmed it too! Or at least his reaction did…”

Naoya pinches the bridge of his noise, exasperated.

“When are you going to stop believing the stupidities they spew at you?”

“Well, Satoru had no reason to lie about that!”

Naoya can think of many, thousands in fact, and they always boil down to malice…

It's hard to believe how he once used to admire him, even thought of himself as very similar to him. But now that he keeps needlessly tormenting his love, that sentiment is far gone—he’ll deal with that matter soon enough, right after reassuring you he doesn’t have feelings for his past classmate.

Not anymore, that is.

“... Just tell me if you still like her, so I can stay out of your way—”

“I don't like her, Y/N.” Naoya declares. “Honestly, I don't think I ever did.”

“Then why did he say that?”

All must’ve started back when he was still a first-year student, having just transferred from Kyoto after demanding to be close to one of his admirations.

Satoru, always the obnoxious one since the beginning of time, had the tradition of pestering all newcomers in hopes of finding a victim to let out all his frustrations on for the following years; however, his sights were specifically the Zen'in heir whom he was previously acquainted with and was quite surprised to see “interacting with the mortals”, since their families often preferred to homeschool their talents.

Of course, now that he was within reach, he just couldn't miss the opportunity of mocking him in any conceivable shape and form, beginning with questions intended to get a rise out of him.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like any of the girls here?” Satoru would begin, for the nth time that day. “Or perhaps left a darling back at home?”

“No, I do not” No matter the insistences, Naoya remained strong in his beliefs, much to Satoru’s disappointment. But if anything, this made it into a far more gratifying challenge.

“Oh, really? Do you expect me to believe the great Zen’in heir has trouble getting with girls?” He continues to tease. “Hm, should’ve known—the only way anyone could tolerate you people is by coercing—"

“Fine! Alright! I like Utahime!” Naoya promptly declared, making Satoru’s expectations… well, shatter. Whatever he had in mind was nothing compared with the seeming reality!

“No way, you like her???!!”

Obviously, for someone as aggravating, set to get the worst of people, he could never truly find enjoyment in Utahime that wasn’t from tormenting her.

But to Naoya… well, he’d soon find out there was more to his answer than just selecting the one he found attractive at the moment.

Just as it was stated, he found Utahime to be quite… alluring. She was fairly good looking, and conservative enough in certain aspects, at least the ones he considered his clan would care of.

Perhaps the only thing he didn’t enjoy was that explosive temperament of hers, how she always fell victim to Satoru’s provocations instead of ignoring him, as a proper lady would’ve.

But he still gave her a chance, tried approaching her, get to know what she thought of him, how much he knew of the Zen’in clan, and most importantly, if she enjoyed being a miko—because such lifestyle could prove detrimental if they got together, and the last thing he needed was more personal struggles to deal with.

Yet, as much as he insisted…as much as Utahime tried to ignore his preceding reputation and give him the benefit of the doubt, nothing would come out from someone that didn’t have the patience to see past of his rough exterior and understand why Naoya was the way he was.

Who he could truly be.

Such things were meant for soulmates, after all.

And all that could’ve been was effectively terminated the moment he decided to transfer to Tokyo.

But for the only other person who saw everything unfold, Satoru, there was still much, much more to exploit.

“...Satoru said you’d always get all flustered whenever she was around” you quietly continue. “So, if you really didn’t like her, why would he say that?”

“Because he'd follow me everywhere to tease me, it was becoming quite… irritating.” He answered honestly, but still not enough to ease your poor heart of its selfish, hurtful assumptions.

“It still doesn't explain why you were talking with her these past few days” you go on, as much as a part of you desired not to.  You just wish that whatever you found out, it wouldn't shatter you. “You’d even hide your phone from me…”

Naoya, understanding how bad this looked, sighs. Nonetheless, if he wishes to preserve your affection he cannot hold back on the truth.

“I… I didn't want to tell you, it was meant to be a surprise, really…  but, well, I managed to figure out where the exchange event is to happen, which is coincidentally, an area to which Utahime is native to. And since I promised to show you around, take you to the best places…. I thought it might've been productive to ask for her input.

I know I pride myself on being from Kyoto, quite arrogantly so, but the truth is… I barely know anything outside what my family has shown me. I wasn't much of a friendly person so I didn't have anywhere to hang out.

And I didn't want to disappoint you, I couldn't let you down, especially after instantly listening to your excitement. The thought alone of ruining your first trip to the city is enough to drive me mad, so… I believed that doing all this was the right path to take.

… But had I known this would be the outcome, I would rather face your disappointment that to never have you by my side again.”

At his explanation, conformed of genuine words and concerns, all you could do is cry.

Weep at the incredulity of your assumptions, ashamed of your distrustful behavior towards him for once again, believing the past that once plagued Naoya.

How long would it take for your insecurities to finally free you? To stop listening what others whisper at your ear, of how he was the wrong person for you?

Until he decides he’s had enough of your childish antics and leaves for good?

Naoya’s far from perfect, undoubtedly so, but he's trying his hardest and he's changing because of it: when he once cared for nothing but his needs, all he could think of now is your happiness.

Were you willing to disappoint him? Rupture this relationship and lose him forever?

You'd never forgive yourself, which is why you wept, and wept, and wept.

Because you had, right before you, the only thing you ever wanted in life— a man that loved you just as you are—and almost ruined it.

But Naoya, whom perhaps regretted this situation the most, didn’t see the reason behind your tears and instead, believed them to be caused by his own failure, the lack of oversight to realize the gravity of his acts and subsequently poorly attempting to bridge his misjudgment.

A part of him doesn’t worry about your solitude, because he knows you’ll always have your friends and family to support you.

But him… without you, he’s truly alone. And he can’t—couldn’t let you go.

 “Tell me, Y/N. What do I need to do for you to believe me? For you to trust me again?” he quickly begins to beg, spew just about anything that might earn him your compassion and forgiveness—one last chance.

Though a simple remedy was all that he needed.

“A—A—hug…!” You sob, and Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you close into his chest, hoping that by his warmth you’d be reassured into ceasing the one thing that always shattered his heart. “I’m—I’m sorry, I should’ve never distrusted you, it’s just that I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, princess. It was just a mistake.” He says, pressing his face against the top of your head.

“But I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did!” you retort. “I shouldn’t have accused you of something that I wasn’t certain of! Of something you would’ve never done, now I know…”

“Why did you believe that I’d have eyes for another woman in the first place…? Have I not shown you what you mean to me?”

“Ye—yes, but…”

“But?”

You sniffle, before swallowing.

“I guess a part of me always felt undeserving of you.” You confess. “Skeptical to believe I found someone that truly loved me, that’d be willing to do all you’ve done for me.”

Naoya at first remains quiet, starting at you in complete disbelief before letting out a warm chuckle, making you frown.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I just… learned we’re not so different, after all.”

You look up to him. “What do you mean?”

“I too, at times, feel underserving of you.” He confesses. “You don’t know how many times I’ve feared the possibility of you simply… deciding you were no longer happy with me; that you might realize there is someone infinitely better than me and leave.”

A certain friend of yours made sure to revive such sentiment within him whenever nearby.

But just as him, you never had eyes for anyone else that wasn’t the love of your life.

“…I guess that’s another way to know we’re meant for each other.” You quietly discern, resting your face back into his chest while Naoya laughs once more. “Does that mean you’re not… upset with me anymore?”

“Upset? If anything, I was quite delighted to see you jealous; you’re quite cute when you are, you know?” He teases, gently pinching your cheek.

“I wasn’t jealous!” You cry, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean… not without reason.”

“Have I not told you already that you are the most beautiful, adorable, gentlest woman in the whole world?” Naoya continues, you turn bright red.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me!” you gasp, pushing your face deeper into his chest.

“The list is honestly endless, but we do have a train to catch.” He reminds you, making your eyes widen and gasp.

“Oh, my god you’re right! We have to hurry!” you say, ready to fetch your suitcase, before bashfully looking back to him. “…Are you still sitting with me?”

“Unless you’re saving it for a random person.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope, and I do not want to run the risk of being paired with a weirdo!”  you exclaim. “You have a lot to catch up with me, anyways.”

“I know.” Naoya responds. “Though I doubt talking about preparations and schoolwork will be any exciting.”

“I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like kisses.” You murmur, and he smirks before leaning down to peck your lips, heart fluttering in return.

“Is that a good way to start?”

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“Perfect.”

Your trip to Kyoto proves to be just as exciting as you expected, if not more thanks to all his precedent planning, that you simply couldn’t wait for the day you’d come again.

Thankfully, you’d have plenty of time to do so once convincing Naoya to take you to visit the Zen’in… much to his chagrin. But anything to make you happy, he supposes.

yes i love setting up more stories should I be blamed? NO. ahahaha

anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it 🙈 I couldn't (nor wouldn't) write anything that might be interpreted as slander against utahime cause i don't feel that way about her (though I feel incredibly disappointed that we didn't get to see more of her 😒😒😒😒) but also I couldn't write her in such way that would make one ask "well, if she was so good for naoya then why is he with y/n? lol"

yet I hope I was able to show how immature/selfish he was with her 🤣 asking questions like "I wonder if she's heard of my clan" instead of trying to genuinely get to know her and such. it's the power of love y'all.......................................

aaaah what i mean to say is, I hope you enjoyed this :') i think it's the first time I ever write Naoya taking interest in someone else, even though it was in the past 🤔 still...

take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

p.s. what do y'all think utahime's reaction was to naoya dating y/n? I have a few ideas but have yet to choose one lol.

[cringe-culture-is-dead-99]

I actually????????? wrote something????????????for the first time ever????

“What the fuck are you talking about, Henderson.”

It’s more of a statement than a question at this point, if only because Eddie knows that there’s nothing much that can stop Dustin when he starts his rambling, usually about some scienc-ey thing that Eddie doesn’t particularly care to understand.

Well, except… this isn’t his usual spiel about radio waves or electromagnetism.

“You need to get a girlfriend or somthing! Or at least, you know, go outside? You haven’t left this trailer in months other than to go to Steve’s. Which, is also another reason you don’t have a girlfriend. And why I’m your only friend. Other than Steve, I guess–”

He’s definitely still talking, Eddie thinks through the pounding in his head- a little gift from himself from last night who thought it would be a good idea to drink alone. Eddie really only comprehends every third word from Dustin’s mouth. But, given the sheer amount of them, he could pretty easily figure out what he was saying.

“Dude,” he interrupts, “you gotta just let it go. I’m fine! Great! Excellent, even! And Steve isn’t my only friend. I have the band! And you, my dear sheepies. How ever could a shepard abandon his flock to seek comfort in the arms of a stranger? I would not dare.”

Dustin DEFINITELY doesn’t need to know that Eddie is as gay as the day is long. The last thing he needs is the kid running off and accidentally telling half the town he’s a queer–or, even worse– telling Steve.

Eddie knew Dustin wouldn’t care if he knew Eddie was gay. He’d be a bit shocked, sure, but pretty soon he’d just start pressuring Eddie to get a boyfriend, instead, and finding new and creative ways to ask uncomfortable questions. He’s a good kid, Eddie thought. He wouldn’t take it badly. 

Probably. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please give me constructive criticism! This is my first 300 words or so of fanfic that ive ever written but im excited about it!!!

@nafroteil thank you for encouraging me !!

[void-my-warranty]

Ghost Lets You Help (18+)

Pairing: Simon Riley/Fem Reader/Johnny MacTavish Content Warnings: Oral (m-receiving), nutting onto partner’s body, overstimulation, she/her Reader, Reader’s hair is long enough to be gripped in someone’s hand Word Count: 3.4k

Service Dog Johnny Part 15 (full part list here)

“How often do you jerk off?”

Your boyfriend’s fingers halt their up and down movement across your lower back, and you quickly tack on, “You don’t have to answer that, I’m just nosy, and I like you a lot.”

Simon huffs in amusement. “At home, or when I’m working?”

“At home, I guess.”

“Ehh… Just about every day.”

Your mouth pops open in surprise, because you don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. He’s with you nearly every minute when you’re both home, and he’s certainly never given any indication of needing to sneak off to take care of something. 

But really, is it that surprising? You know first hand that he’s quite functional.

“Hmm,” you reply finally. “You’re a really interesting person.”

“It’s not that interesting.”

“Mmm… disagree. I have way more questions now.”

He turns his head to get a look at you, resting in bed with your cheek smushed into the crook of his shoulder. “Like what?”

“Like… have you jerked off today?”

“No.” His hand begins to move again, steadily smoothing against the worn fabric of your sleep shirt. 

“Would you ever want… help?” You ask casually, smiling at him. “Just like, for fun. Like a quick, wham bam… here’s my hand.”

You expect him to laugh at your little joke, but instead Simon makes that grumble in his throat that means he’s uncomfortable, and stares up at the shadowy ceiling. “It’s… ahh. It’s not easy… well, it’s a problem, having things done, sort of, to me.”

“Gotcha, okay.” Your reassurance is automatic, but you still lay there against his side for a minute with your heart clenching, wishing the worst things the world has to offer on whoever caused this. 

You know you should probably end the conversation there and not push him, but you can’t help asking, “What about if you were controlling it? No pressure of course, I’m just troubleshooting. Do you think it would be easier if you were the one just like… fucking my mouth?”

 He takes a deep breath and slides his free hand down his face, like he’s really considering it. “Maybe.”

You contain your smile to a mere tenth of what it wants to be, and add, “Well, if you ever feel like experimenting, I would really, really like to do that. And you know we could stop whenever you need.”

“You’d want to do that?” He finally glances at you, frowning slightly like he thinks you’re lying. 

“Yes! Oh my god.” You sit up in your excitement, beaming down at him. “That would be so fun.”

He assesses you like this is all new information to him. Like he never even imagined that you’d be practically creaming yourself at the chance to get him in your mouth, no matter how it happens. You’d absolutely give him that control, you’d let him fuck your face for as long as he wants if it means you get a taste of his pleasure.

“You’d like that,” he muses finally. 

Please, please, god, PLEASE.  

“Mhmm,” you reply with a heavy dose of faux nonchalance, so he’ll feel like he’s allowed to say no. 

His eyes flick to the clock on the nightstand. There’s still some time left before you usually go to bed. 

“Would you do it with the lights off?”

“Of course,” you beam. “I’m up for anything.”

“All the lights,” he reinforces sternly, as if that could possibly matter.

“Baby. You’re gonna get me excited.”

He throws his legs over the side of the bed and stays there for a minute stretching his neck out, while you remain where you are, vibrating with anticipation. Finally he sighs and glances over his shoulder at you. “Suppose you’re allowed to get excited.”

Just like that, it’s settled. 

Gleefully you spring into action to do the necessary bedtime things, scrubbing over your teeth and washing your face. When you meet him back in the bedroom, he’s for some reason staring down at a pillow that’s lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Err… you’ll be on your knees, yeah? Would a pillow be wobbly, or?…”

This is really happening. 

“Carpet’s fine,” you assure him, scooping up the pillow and tossing it back on the bed. “It’s plenty soft, and also I don’t care.”

“Hmm.”

Ignoring you entirely, he starts stalking around the room, running his fingers over the locks on the windows and unplugging anything with a little glowing light. 

You do the only thing that’s really your job, and strip your clothes off, because surely he’ll want to look a little before the lights go out. And since he’s still meticulously getting the blackout curtains to stay as closed as they can go, you begin to plan the scene.

If he’s going to be the one fucking your mouth, if you aren’t allowed to move at all, you’re going to want something for support. The obvious thing is the bed, so you test it by getting to the floor and slipping your feet into the space under the bed frame. This could work. You have the soft edge of the mattress to lean your back against now, and it’ll be relatively comfy to give a blowjob like this. 

Your mind only focuses back to the present when Simon comes to a stop some paces away, tracing your body with his eyes. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

“Mhmm.” His hand comes to rest on the doorknob as his gaze floats up to your face. 

“You locked the front door. I saw.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t move though, and you can practically see him second guessing it through his unfocused expression. He won’t be able to relax unless he knows for sure.

“Go ahead and check,” you concede, “we have time.”

Instantly he’s out the door. You let your head fall back on the bed, smiling to yourself as you rest there for a moment. You stroke your hands down your stomach just to feel the softness of your own skin, and then squeeze your breasts. 

The last person who touched you was Johnny. He’s gone tonight, had to do a nighttime shooting qualification at work, so you won’t see him until hopefully tomorrow. 

What would he think, if he knew this was about to happen? Would he worry about Simon? Maybe feel like you’re pushing him too fast? It was just a couple of days ago that you were biting Johnny’s head off about feeling unwanted, and now you’re experimenting without him again. 

Your hands drop off your body as soon as the door opens. You blink up at your boyfriend who’s now towering over you, a completely different person than he was a few minutes ago.

He must have satisfied every bug in his brain, because the curtains are now the farthest thing from his mind. His eyes are liquid darkness, roving over your bare skin as he reaches behind his neck to strip his shirt over his head. He doesn’t even fold it, just wads it up and tosses it on the bed without a glance.

“You ready?” you ask innocently, shivering a little. 

“Yep.”

“Okay.” Your gaze wanders down to the situation in his pants, and you realize your mistake. “You’re more like, here, aren’t you?” You readjust, getting to your full height on your knees instead of sitting. 

“I think so.”

You put your elbows behind you to prop you up on the bed, and surreptitiously watch him cross the room to turn off the lamp.

Click.

And then it’s real.

The first thing you notice is that he did an excellent job of killing every light. There’s fucking nothing, not even the clock display to orient you to your surroundings. Granted, your eyes haven’t adjusted yet, but it’s basically pitch black, which means he has a good chance of going through with this. 

Which means—

He’s quiet, as he usually is. It’s only his unavoidable weight, and the creak of old floorboards that allows you to sense that he’s come back to you. Your body awakens with the awareness of proximity, excitement and arousal, and for some reason a little bit of fear, which doesn’t seem to diminish the other two. 

Your name comes out of his chest, slow and deep, and right in front of you.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper, feeling more vulnerable in the darkness, because you can’t anticipate the first place he’ll touch you. 

It’s your chin. His familiar hand finds your face, and then you’ve got a palm holding each of your cheeks. Thumbs you can’t see brush across your temples, careful fingers tuck your hair behind your ears. His hands are steady as they repeat the motion, stroking the edges of your face to pet your hair out of the way. Again. Again. Gentle fingers of a patient man. 

You keep your eyes lifted as if you can see him, relaxing your body and allowing him to tilt your head back a little. Your hair gets methodically gathered into one of his hands, and then held firmly like that, in a way that makes you anticipate getting your mouth filled soon. 

But he releases it, as if he was just testing the option. His hands slip back around to your face, cupping the underside of your jaw and curling around your nape. 

“You're safe,” he tells you, for some reason.

“I know.”

His methodical breathing is all you hear as his thumb sweeps the length of your cheekbone, slowly, like he’s touching something valuable. And his other thumb finds the seam of your lips, coaxing them open with a little pressure. 

You stay soft for him while he pushes that digit past your teeth, keeping your mouth relaxed as he lets it rest on your tongue. You wait like that, letting him feel how warm and pliant your mouth is, just breathing through your nose as he caresses your face in the darkness. What a good girl you are, his thumb seems to say, skimming the tips of your lashes when you blink. So well behaved for me.

He never loses contact, even when his hand retreats from your mouth. He keeps the back of your skull resting in the cradle of his wide palm while he gets himself ready. That soft rustle of fabric shoots a thrill down your spine, has you lifting your chin a little to straighten out your throat. 

Then something warm and a little sticky kisses up against your lips, and the man you love breathes a quiet, “Open.”

Against the blanket, your fingers curl in pleasure while he eases himself into your mouth. He presses just the tip in, and then pulls back out a little, repeating the motion. It’s like he’s sampling the way it feels sliding across your tongue, so you stick it out for him to play with, just past your lower lip. He feels you do that, you can tell by the appreciative breath he lets out. He likes it. He likes picturing you here, patiently waiting with your tongue out, letting him rub his leaking tip up and down it. 

It’s so good. Your eyes drift closed on their own, mentally slipping into the skin of someone who deserves this kind of attention. You take an ungodly amount of pleasure in being toyed with like this — the slow, systematic breaking down of your psyche until all you are is a craving. A bone deep, unending ripple of want that registers your mouth as the natural place for his cock. He gets to come home now, pushing inside you and finding relief in the same act that’s getting you slick between your legs. 

You’re not sure if he does it like this on purpose to get you worked up. You’re not sure that it matters. 

“Show me how deep I can go so it’s still comfortable.” His thumb presses down on your jaw, guiding you to open wider. “This is important to me.”

Oh. Okay. Obediently you reach out and find his thigh with your hand, relaxing your mouth as he begins to push himself inside it. A happy, breathy noise leaves you when you finally feel it the way you’re meant to, finally get your mouth full of that fundamental piece of him. 

He doesn’t pause, just carefully pushes inside until he reaches the line of your gag reflex, and you offer some resistance on his leg to let him know. 

“Fuck, alright. Yeah, alright.” His  breathing is ragged between words. “Christ, you sound so pretty.”

Yeah, you’re too aroused to really hold back at this point. As he begins to slowly thrust into your mouth, you thank him for it with soft, needy throat noises. He keeps one hand around your jaw and feeds you his cock to exactly where you showed him, and it feels divine. 

You're not sure if it’s intentional, but he never fully pulls out. He never gives you a chance to collect yourself or swallow, just keeps filling your mouth until you’re no longer anxious about it ending before you’re ready. You’re dazed and content, drooling around him and communicating exactly how much you’re enjoying yourself, through every soft moan and whimper. Your lips are wet from the mess of spit and precum gathering in your mouth, and you’re getting so turned on that you swear there’s a faint sensation of something dripping down the inner crease of your thigh. 

Maybe you like this a lot. Maybe you enjoy the way your jaw aches with how thick he is. Maybe you’re glad this is lasting a lot longer than the other time, because there’s nothing that compares to getting on your knees for someone who loves you the way he does.  

“Don’t want to— Can I cum on you?”

Like he’s just remembered that you can’t talk with your mouth full, Simon quickly pulls out and stays there, holding your face and catching his breath. 

“Yeah, of course,” you say after a quick swallow. “Maybe don’t get it in my hair if you can help it.”

“I won’t.” 

He gathers your hair again in his shaking hand, and this time he uses it to hold your head steady while he sinks himself all the way to your throat. 

It has you grabbing onto the blanket while you fight back the urge to gag. You just weren’t prepared for that, hadn’t given yourself time to relax into it after he was so insistent earlier about not going too deep. One more thrust and you can’t help the way your throat constricts, the wet sputter you do when you can’t quite accommodate him. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, nearly scraping himself on your front teeth in his haste to pull out. “M’sorry. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You lift your hand to his wrist, finding his fingers with yours and wrapping around them to make sure he doesn’t let go of your hair. “You’re alright.”

His voice still has a frantic edge. “Didn’t mean to. That wasn’t on purpose.”

“I know, baby,” you assure him, slow and calm. “Take a breath, we’re okay.”

You’re rewarded with a deep inhale and exhale from somewhere above you. Then a steady, “You’re alright?”

“Yep, I’m doing great.” You sink down the side of the bed, letting your ass rest on your feet, and draping your head back on the edge of the mattress. “And you know what?”

“What?” His fingers shift in your hair, but he doesn’t let go, so you stroke your fingers down to his wrist.

“My tits are really soft,” you tell him, letting your smile warm the words.

There’s only a beat of silence, and then a little amused huff for you. “Are they, now?”

“Mhmm. You can see for yourself, if you want.”

There’s barely a second of hesitation before you hear his knees pop, and then feel that familiar hand tracing down your collarbone to find your breast. “Mmm. You’re right.”

Your evil plan is working. “Check the other one too, just to be sure.”

Simon only stops long enough to do another deep breath, then wraps his hand around your other breast, squeezing it gently. “Yeah. Fuckin’ nice.”

Time to get him what he needs. 

“So I have these nice soft titties right here for you, right? I think you should cum on them.”

His next breath is choppy and delicious, as he runs his fingertips down the swell of your breast and fiddles with your nipple. 

“I think they would look extra pretty,” you purr at him, “with a little decoration.”

His hand leaves your skin then, and the air is so quiet that you can hear him stroking himself with your spit remaining on him. You sigh happily, letting him hold your head out of the way by your hair, so your face won’t get dirty in a minute when he cums. 

“I love your voice,” he whispers. “That little high note you do at the end of a breath, when you’re… like this.”

“Wet?” You playfully whisper back.

“Are you wet, darling?”

Your thighs seem to flex together on their own accord. “Uh huh.” 

The slick sounds pause for a beat, and then he says, “Can I feel?”

Oh, fuck. You’re definitely going to have to get your toy out after this. “Yeah, baby.”

He doesn’t let go of your hair, just reaches down with his free hand to find your thighs. You spread your knees apart on the carpet and marvel at the lack of hesitation, as he runs his fingertips up and down the outside of your pussy. 

“Jesus bloody fucking Christ.”

“I’m having a great time,” you laugh, keeping your hips as still as possible so he remains in control of the contact. 

“You are, aren’t you?” 

“Mmm, yeah.” His fingers are still stroking your soaked pussy, so you turn your head a little to kiss his wrist. “I like this, baby.”

He’s collecting your wetness, you finally realize. He gets his palm nice and slick with it, and then gets back to his feet, and starts jerking off with your arousal. 

You close your eyes and let yourself picture it, how he’s standing now with your knees between his legs. You do your best to push your tits out so they’ll get the bulk of the exterior decorating, and just relax there and let him hear your happy, horny breaths. 

His choked curse is the only warning you get before something warm and sticky hits your chest. You smile to yourself while he works himself through that orgasm, painting you with his pleasure because for some reason he’d rather do this than shoot it down your throat. 

You don’t mind, not really. You’re pretty sure it’s not a humiliation thing for him, and it’s easy enough to get cleaned up afterwards. Once his breathing has started to level out and his grip in your hair loosens, you reach up and swipe a little bit of cum off your breast. In the pitch black, he doesn’t see you suck it off your finger.

His recovery is much better this time. Maybe it’s the fact that you didn’t actually fuck, or maybe it’s because he’s processed the initial hurdle already, but he never goes nonverbal. He ends up wiping you down with his own shirt so the lights can stay off, and then he holds you in his arms while you make yourself cum with your vibrator. 

Simon reaches down to your wrist and encourages you to keep your toy on your clit while you whine and gasp through the overstimulation after your orgasm. He makes you promise not to stop before he releases your hand to play with your nipple. 

“Just a little longer,” he whispers, stroking his thumb over the sensitive point. “I know you can do it.”

He’s right. It only takes a few more minutes before you’re shaking, jerking the toy away and squeezing your thighs together through the rushing in your ears. 

You’re limp after that, a mere jellyfish washed up on the beach. Simon thinks it’s funny, keeps lifting your wrist in the air and then letting it flop to the mattress. He can’t even see it, but finds it entertaining all the same. 

“Simon?” You whisper after a few sleepy kisses.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about clearing out the spare bedroom, and putting a bed in there for Johnny when he spends the night?”

Your boyfriend tugs affectionately at a lock of your hair. “I think that’s a bloody good idea.”

Next Part

Dividers by the-aesthetics-shop

Chronological Read-Through Path

[luveline]

I would love to hear more about post-prisoner!spencer and shy!reader now that they’re dating pretty please they’re so cute 😭💗

“You’re doing it again,” Spencer murmurs. 

You let a breath slip from between your lips, blinking. “Mm?” 

“You’re having a hot flush.” 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“Don’t be– I’m not telling you so you’re sorry,” he murmurs, fondness sinking into every word. “Why do you get so hot like this? Is it the socks?” 

You had to ditch your stockings when you got back to Spencer’s place, sick of them pinching and riding all over the show, but then Spencer worried about cold floors and nagged you into wearing his socks and it doesn’t matter, it’s not the socks. “It’s just a girl thing, sometimes,” you murmur back. 

“Is it?”

“Think so.” 

Could also be that Spencer’s in the corner of the couch and he’s pulled you against him, half sitting and half laying, nosing slowly at the side of your face whenever he remembers to do it, which is often. He doesn’t realise what he’s doing, clearly, if he’s concerned again about your temperature. 

“I’m fine,” you say, willing him to stop talking about it. 

“I don’t really know anything about hot flushes,” he says. You can hear the wrinkle in his nose. “I think it’s a gap in my knowledge. Not anything useful.” 

“It’ll go away in a minute.” 

“Did you want me to open a window?” 

Spencer moving is the very last thing you want, despite your body’s constant overreaction; his being close to you is like this insane gift you haven’t learned to accept, but you’re obsessed with nonetheless. You’ve learned to relax into his touching and his embraces despite your initial nerves (which is putting it kindly), and you can’t help yourself now as he attempts to move you. You whine in loud, uncharacteristic displeasure and turn on your side to be facing his chest. “No,” you say into his t-shirt, squeezing yourself as close to his body as you can. 

“Okay, okay, I won’t.” He doesn’t hold you immediately, and you tense, but as quickly as you’ve gone rigid the sooner he’s wrapping his arms around you in return. “This won’t help you cool down.” 

“Sure it will.” 

Spencer laughs softly. For a minute you hide in his front, your heart uncomfortably quick in your hands, but he has a talent for putting you at ease, letting his fingertips tumble up and down your back. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Tired.” 

Spencer blows a cold breath at the top of your head. “Then sleep.” 

“Gotta go home.” 

“No, you don’t. You can stay…” He’s murmuring again, “There’s more than enough room for both of us in my bed, and I’ll drive you home in the morning so you can get ready… You don’t have to leave.” He kisses your forehead. “Please don’t go home.” 

“I…” You lift your head, putting you both eye to eye. “Why’d you want me to stay this bad?” 

“Trick question.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“You are?” He moves to cradle the side of your face. “I want you to stay ‘cos I do. There’s not really another reason, I just want you to be here with me instead of away at your place, I don’t think we need… you don’t need to go home, do you?” 

“No,” you say, tentative, but not reluctant, “I don’t. I’ll stay.” 

“Yeah?” Your face must betray you. Spencer takes pity on you and stops pouring his gaze all over you, instead ducking down to kiss you chastely. “So shy,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“Stop it.” 

“So warm…” He smiles into another kiss before pulling quickly away. “It’s good, you should stay, I need to figure out the cause of all these crazy hot flushes.” 

You settle back against his chest. “Go ahead,” you say with a sigh. He’ll never guess it’s him, and you’re not about to tell him. 

[brokenmenswhore]

a proposition: a return | poly!marauders

#4

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, marlene, and mary)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism

a/n: if you’ve requested to be on the taglist but didn’t get tagged, check the taglist at the bottom to see if your account is unlinked, and if so check your settings to make sure i can tag you! i added everyone’s @ even if it didn’t let me tag an account to it. also i don’t have it in me to proofread 17 times anymore sorry for any errors

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

When you approached the girls, who were seated around their usual Gryffindor table after class for a study session, you were immediately thrown by the unfamiliar face among them.

“Y/N! Come sit!”

Lily’s usual excitement shone through as she patted the empty spot on the bench next to her. You tentatively sat down, hoping someone would introduce you to the unfamiliar person, but she was occupying the group too much to even take notice of you.

“And they call the bin a trash can. I mean talk about being literal, right? I swear, if one more person over there called something by the exact descriptor of what it was, I would have thrown a book at their head.”

The table chuckled at her story.

“Marlene, this is Y/N,” Lily chimed in once the girl was done speaking.

Marlene turned her head toward you, scanning the visible portion of your body before landing on your face. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you responded, flushed and uncomfortable.

“So you’re a part of this group now?” Marlene asked completely unprompted.

You were slightly taken aback. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“Well you either are or you aren’t.”

You stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to act. You had never met this person, and now she was snapping at you. “I am.”

Instead of responding to you, Marlene turned to Lily and said, “I thought this was a set thing? Since when do we let new people in?”

“God, Marls, it’s not like there’s a rule book,” Dorcas said.

“We literally all agreed, Dorcas,” Marlene bounced back.

“And we all agreed to include Y/N,” Lily smiled, refusing to include herself in the tension of the conversation.

“I didn’t,” Marlene responded, leaning on her elbows over the table in a confrontational stance.

“You weren’t here,” Dorcas fought.

Marlene took a deep breath before grabbing her books and standing up. “I’ll see you guys later,” she said, exiting the Great Hall in a huff.

You looked around in hopes that someone, anyone, would explain to you exactly what just happened. Instead, the table stayed quiet, refusing to acknowledge any of it as they continued studying.

You were too nervous to ask, so you pretended like nothing happened as you pulled out your books.

The next day, in between classes, you ran into Sirius in the library. You were met with two consecutive free blocks, which allowed you time to study. Sirius, on the other hand, just didn’t feel like attending charms.

“Aren’t you usually in class right now?” he said, catching you browsing through the shelves of books.

“Mhm.”

“You’re skipping?”

“I have it free today.”

Sirius furrowed his brow as he studied your face. It was unlike you to be so dry in your answers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, engrossed in your own thoughts about Marlene and her reaction to you. You hadn’t realized how you were speaking to Sirius.

“Wanna sit for a second?” Sirius said, nonchalant as if your answer wouldn’t phase him.

“Sure,” you shrugged, approaching a nearby table.

Sirius sat across from you, studying your face as you tried to arrange your books. You peered up at him for a second, noticing his gaze but pretending you didn’t.

You thought about speaking, but weren’t capable of acting as though you weren’t bothered. If this person was part of the group, surely Sirius knew her already, so you decided to test it out.

“Marlene’s back, you know,” you said, as if you were completely in the know about everything regarding this mysterious new person.

“I know,” Sirius responded, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

You waited to see if he would elaborate any further, but he simply sat there, smoking his cigarette, staring at you.

“I didn’t even know she existed until this morning,” you said, “is there a reason no one told me? She was pretty cold to me.”

“That’s just Marlene,” Sirius brushed it off. He seemed as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing it.

“Where has she been? I’ve never seen her before,” you asked.

Sirius sighed. “She spent a year at Ilvermorny.”

You were getting frustrated from how little information Sirius was giving you. He was strategically only answering your exact question, and only doing so in the most concise way possible.

“Why?” you pressed.

“Wanted a year away,” he said.

You sighed. “Sirius, you’re not giving me much.”

Sirius sat upward, leaning his elbows on the table and smiling in amusement at your interest. “Why so curious?”

“Just wondering what happened is all.”

Sirius saw the intrigue on your face and caved. “She took a year away from here after a bunch of drama happened. She was falling pretty hard for someone in our group and that person wasn’t really the monogamous type. They got in a huge fight, the whole group was there- it got really messy. She couldn’t take it anymore and decided to transfer schools. Guess she’s back now,” he finally explained.

“She wasn’t supposed to come back?”

“I have no idea. She only told Dorcas she was leaving. That’s the only reason we all knew.”

You nodded your head, flipping through the pages of a textbook as if this new information meant nothing of importance to you.

“So she left the group?”

Sirius sighed. “She left the school, Y/N. I don’t think anyone expected her to show back up.”

“So she never officially left the group.”

“Why would it matter?” Sirius smiled, “you jealous of her or somethin’?”

“What? No,” you said, “I just didn’t know this person existed and she was a real bitch to me earlier. Just wondering why.”

Sirius leaned an arm over the table and put his hand over yours. “You have nothin’ to worry about.”

The gesture was unlike Sirius, but you appreciated it nevertheless, and you smiled at him to show it.

────── ☾ ──────

“So you’re in this now, hm?”

You, startled by the sudden voice, whipped your head around to see Marlene McKinnon jogging to catch up to you in the hallway.

“Yeah,” you said as you continued on your route to class.

“What’s so special that you’ve got Sirius Black asking for you to join? You that good of a lay? The whore of Hufflepuff?”

You stopped on your tracks, wiping stray hairs out of your face as you huffed, “what?”

“I just mean, Sirius isn’t really one to pick and choose,” she said, sizing you up, “you must have gotten a glowing endorsement from someone. Let me guess, Remus?”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you brushed her off.

“Sirius Black wouldn’t invite a lower-year virgin into our little group,” Marlene said, “he just wouldn’t. So fess up.”

“This is insane,” you said, turning forward and beginning to walk again.

Marlene stepped in front of you, cutting you off as you nearly walked straight into her.

“I have class,” you stated dryly.

“You won’t last, you know,” Marlene started, “once the shiny new toy gets played with a few times, they’ll get bored and throw it away.”

“What’s your problem?” you said, surprising yourself with your confrontation. Being in this group was making you more confident in yourself.

“Don’t have one,” Marlene said, “just trying to get the scoop, since I was so rudely left out.”

“I have class,” you repeated.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you, but I should warn you that those boys don’t tend to stick with the good girls.”

“That’s too bad, since I’m already in the group,” you fought back, sick of her insults.

“For now,” Marlene said, smiling triumphantly and she stepped to the side.

You shot her a look before walking off.

────── ☾ ──────

When you’d confided in Dorcas how Marlene had been treating you, you didn’t anticipate that she would become quite so enraged, pulling you around and collecting all the members of your group until you were all together.

Fuming, Dorcas finally took a seat.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asked.

“A good ol’ Dorcas summoning,” Evan joked.

Dorcas sat in silence, nostrils flaring as she stared at Marlene.

“Well?” Marlene said, legs and arms crossed, “what is it?”

“Have you been threatening Y/N?”

Marlene immediately threw her hands up. “What am I, on trial? Fuck this.”

She began to stand, but Sirius stood as well. “Sit down,” he said, and she sighed, but did as she was told.

You were taken aback by how serious he was being. You hasn’t even told him what Marlene said to you.

“I didn’t threaten her,” Marlene said.

“So you didn’t tell her she’s a toy we’ll all get bored of playing with?”

The heads in the room all turned to Marlene. “Why does it matter? If she can’t handle being part of this, then she shouldn’t be a part of it.”

“You can’t just bully her out because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous of what, Dorcas? Hm? The fact she’s in the goodie two-shoes house?”

“Guys,” you tried to chime in, but it got lost in the tension.

“Oh, you know what,” Dorcas spat.

Dorcas and Marlene both stood, their voices growing louder and louder.

“No, I don’t. Tell me Dorcas, what the fuck do I have to be jealous of? Some young little girl who doesn’t even know how to fuck?”

“Guys,” you tried again.

“Why did you even come back, Marlene?” Dorcas retaliated.

“What, you didn’t miss me?”

“One day you’re my best friend, and the next you just leave a note like ‘oh! I can’t do it anymore and I’m transferring to America, bye!’ and I’m just supposed to jump up and down in joy when you suddenly decide we’re worthy enough to have you back?”

Marlene plopped back into her chair. “This is bullshit, I’m not doing this. Did you really call us all here just to yell at me in front of everyone?”

“No,” Dorcas said, “I called us all here to vote you out.”

The room stilled for a moment before Marlene scoffed. “To vote me out?”

“Guys!” you finally yelled, and it caught their attention, “can we please calm down?”

“You wanna vote me out? Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding you.”

Marlene and Dorcas stared at each other, intensity in their eyes as Remus finally tried to calm the situation down.

“Marlene, things are a little different than when you were here before,” Remus said, “I think it’s only fair that you’re either okay with that, or you’re out.”

“Oh yeah?” Marlene replied, “and what’s different? Besides the Huffle-slut.”

You threw your hands in the air, exhausted of Marlene’s inexplicable hatred toward you.

“Well, for starters, are you over him?” Remus asked.

Marlene stared at Remus blankly, almost as if she was trying to think her way out of answering, but couldn’t.

You looked around the room, but everyone was too focused on Marlene’s answer to provide you with any explanation. You couldn’t help but feel left out of something.

“Yeah,” Marlene shrugged.

“I don’t believe you,” Dorcas said.

“Go cry about it,” Marlene spat.

“Stop, fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed, “are you or are you not okay with Y/N being here?”

“Clearly I’m not, mom.”

Remus huffed and stood up. “Well, fuck this, I’m done trying,” he said, walking over to the ashtray and flicking embers off the butt of his cigarette.

The room stilled, everyone unsure of what to do.

“You guys shouldn’t have agreed on anyone new without me,” Marlene spoke up.

“Bloody hell, you were gone, you fucking idiot,” Dorcas said, “and we had no reason to think you were coming back. What were we gonna do, send an owl? Fuck off.”

“Can she even fuck?”

“Give it a rest, Marlene,” Sirius spoke up.

“No, I wanna know. Can you fuck?” she said, turning to you.

Your eyes widened. “I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” you stated.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you can fuck like a big girl.”

You looked around the group in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Pick someone here, and prove it.”

“Marlene, come on, shut the fuck u-“

Sirius was cut off by Marlene pressing on, “pick someone and let’s get on with it, Hufflepuff.”

A feeling shot straight to your core at the thought of having to fuck someone in front of the entire group. You were too worked up.

You looked up at Remus, who had been your obsession and your safe person thus far, and waited to see his expression. Marlene noticed your attention turn to him.

“Remus it is,” she said, moving the coffee table away from the center of the room, “hurry up. Let’s go.”

“I don’t think-“ Remus started.

“You know what? Fuck you, Marlene,” Dorcas said, rushing over to you.

Dorcas leaned down and kissed you hard, the kiss full of intensity and fire and anger. You were startled, but quickly started to kiss her back. This was your group, not hers anymore. If she wanted to see you fuck, she’d get a good show before she was kicked out.

Dorcas dropped to her knees in front of you. She propped one of your legs up against the armrest on the side of the couch.

Dorcas propped up your other leg and pushed it toward James, who was sitting right next to you. “Hold her, will ya?” Dorcas said.

James nodded, taking hold of your right leg.

With your legs widespread, your skirt bunched up at your waist.

“You consent?” Dorcas asked.

You nodded your head yes.

Dorcas wasted no time pushing your underwear to the side and diving in, flattening her tongue against you and moving up and down.

Your head tilted backward as you sighed, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried not to focus on the several pairs of eyes on you. You leaned onto James, trying to somewhat hide your face in his neck,

Dorcas was someone you’d always assumed would be rough in the bedroom, and she was angry and worked up over the Marlene situation, however, you were surprised by how soft and gentle she was being. You knew it was intentional for you.

She was in no rush, moving her tongue slowly against you. You thought of something Lily had told you previously: Girls give better head because they know what truly feels good.

You whimpered each time Dorcas swirled her tongue particularly well, and James lightly rubbed his thumb across your leg, comforting you on top of the pleasure.

“Jeez,” Evan spoke from across the room.

Marlene slouched in her chair in a huff, her eyes fixed on everyone else in the room, trying to gage their reactions to you.

You let out a light squeal when Dorcas began to trace around your hole with her finger, alerting you of an oncoming intrusion.

She slowly slipped one finger inside of you, again in no rush as you softly moaned at the sensation. Her mouth never detached from you as she began to pump her finger in and out of you.

James stroked your thigh with his fingers as he watched Dorcas eat you out, occasionally kissing the top of your head to remind you that you were okay. He also just wanted the validation of feeling included. James liked to feel needed.

Everyone was watching intently, turned on by the sight in front of them. Marlene was focused on everyone else, and Sirius took a drag of his cigarette every time James leaned in to kiss your head.

“Shit, I-“

You spoke so low that only James could hear it. James tapped Dorcas to warn her that you were about to come, and instead of following through, she stood up and backed away from you.

You instinctively closed your legs, remaining in your comfortable position against James.

“That wasn’t shit,” Marlene said, “you really want that in here?”

“Who said we were done?” Dorcas spat back.

Dorcas grabbed Remus’s arm and pulled him over to the empty space on the rug where the coffee table used to be.

Remus looked at Dorcas expectantly, but she just raised her eyebrows and gestured toward the floor.

Remus threw his hands up. “Yeah, it’s a nice rug.”

Dorcas sighed and pushed his shoulders until he was kneeling on the floor.

“You could have just fuckin’ told me where you wanted me, damn,” Remus said.

“Y/N?”

You were still slouched into James, trying to calm your breathing despite your core being on fire from the abrupt stop to your pleasure. “Mhm,” you vocalized.

When you didn’t receive an answer, you forced your eyes open to see the entire room staring at you.

“Think you’re needed down there, angel,” James whispered to you, nodding toward Remus.

You took a deep breath. You dropped to your knees and sat in front of Remus. He leaned in to your ear and whispered, “I’m gonna take care of you, baby.”

He kissed your cheek before he adjusted himself to a lay, sprawled out against the rug and waiting for you to sit on him.

You adjusted your legs around his waist, grateful Dorcas didn’t take your skirt fully off. You were still clothed and modest to the group.

“Remus doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Marlene said.

“Don’t you speak for me, I’m doing just fine down here,” Remus said, placing his hands behind his head as he watched you in amusement.

You blindly undid Remus’s belt, pulling it off of him as you began to unbutton his jeans. Remus pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his already hard cock.

You began to pull your underwear to the side, but a voice stopped you.

“No no,” Marlene said, “fuckin’ amateur. Don’t you know Remus needs a little something first?”

You knew she was just messing with you and trying to prove that she knew everyone better than you, but you felt like you knew Remus above everyone in the room.

But, if she wanted a show, you’d give her a show.

You slowly backed up on your knees until you were between Remus’s legs. You remained on your knees, allowing your ass to stick upward and your skirt to fall onto your back, exposing your backside, as your hands found Remus’s cock.

You looked to Lily, who had taught you the little you knew so far, and she nodded at you so as to say “you got this.” Her approving nod gave you confidence.

You licked a stripe from the base of Remus’s cock to the tip before sinking down on the entire length. Remus was large, too large to fit entirely in your mouth without deepthroating, but you didn’t care. You were running on pure lust, anger, and adrenaline.

Remus was looking down at you, but when his tip hit the back of your throat, he slammed his head back against the floor, a satisfied moan leaving his lips.

You pulled away almost entirely before sinking back down again, deepthroating him once more.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Remus sighed.

You swallowed in uncomfortability at the feeling of his cock in your throat, which only added to his pleasure.

“Bloody hell, you can see him in your throat, Y/N,” Lily said, “do that again.”

You looked up at Remus, who looked down to see what Lily was talking about. You swallowed again, and Remus could see the slight bulge of his cock in the top of your throat.

“Holy fuck.”

You pulled away and began to suck him normally, maintaining a steady rhythm. You couldn’t taste all of him without deepthroating, so you used your hand to account for the base of his length.

You looked up at Marlene, who scoffed and looked away as you kept your gaze on her, evidently showing her your confidence and ability as you sucked off Remus.

Marlene looked around the room and saw everyone’s eyes trained on you. Sirius adjusted his position in his seat, and James was nearly salivating.

“Okay, enough, get to it then,” Marlene said.

You pulled off of Remus, making a show of wiping your lower lip as you moved upward until you were sitting on top of Remus.

His hands found your waist without hesitation. He was lost in pleasure and lust, eager to feel you again.

You pushed your underwear to the side and held onto Remus’s length with one hand, positioning it at your entrance.

You slowly sank down, watching Remus’s face for any uncomfortability, but he was immediately just to happy to be inside of you that he pushed his hips up.

You gasped at the sudden feeling of a thrust, and Remus snapped open his eyes and looked up at you.

“You okay?”

You leaned down and kissed Remus. “Fuck me, Rem.”

Remus used one hand to hold your hair as he pulled you back into a kiss, and the other hand gripped your waist to hold you in place as he began to fuck up into you.

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, and he held your head there, happy to have a few moments where he was the only one who could hear your small whimpers and whines. James was right: he did enjoy being special to you.

Dorcas knelt beside your bodies and wrapped her fingers in your hair, pulling back until you were seated up. She tugged at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up over your head. She then unclasped your bra and pulled the straps off of your arms.

She hungrily kissed you, keeping you sat up so that your body was on full display for everyone in the room.

She kissed down from your neck to your breasts, sucking on your nipple as you threw your head back in pleasure.

You felt a sudden pang of embarrassment, but it was quickly gone as you looked to your right. Alecto was pressing her legs together for dear life, Evan was holding a pillow between his legs, and Sirius was staring you dead in the eyes.

You stared back for a moment, matching his eye contact. He coughed on cigarette smoke, something he never did as a veteran smoker, but continued to look back at you.

Your attention was pulled by Dorcas, who kissed you again as Remus’s thrusts grew harder and faster.

You moaned out as you threw your head back, trying to lift your hips in rhythm with Remus, but he was thrusting a little too fast for you.

Dorcas noticed, and she crawled behind you, kneeling on the floor as she held your body against hers, ensuring you remained seated upward and on display.

She kissed the side of your neck, sucking on a sweet spot as you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasure. You tried not to think about Marlene or the voyeurism, but just to be present in the moments of pleasure.

Your moans grew higher in pitch until you began to clench around Remus.

“Fuck, Remus, I- shit, I can’t-“

“No fucking cop outs,” Marlene said.

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Saying it was hard. “I- I’m-“

“Merlin, Y/N, please say it,” Remus spoke through erratic breaths below you.

You took a deep breathe. “I- I’m gonna come, Remmy, please-“

Remus snapped his hips hard, hitting your sweet spot and causing you to come with just a few more thrusts. Dorcas held you through your high, causing your legs to shake and your body to nearly convulse from the intensity as Remus came in succession.

You blinked your eyes open, trying to catch your breath as Dorcas kissed your temple and stood up.

You wiped sweat from your forehead and looked down at Remus, who put his hands behind his head again and smiled up at you.

“Stay there as long as you like.”

You giggled and leaned down to kiss Remus as Dorcas gave you back your shirt.

With Remus still in you, you pulled your shirt over your head and looked at Marlene, eyebrows raised.

“Good enough for you?” you grinned.

Marlene shrugged, clearly bothered. “Nothing I couldn’t do better.”

“I beg to differ,” Remus sighed, “not a lot could top that.”

You leaned down and kissed Remus before carefully lifting your hips and sitting back on the floor. You knew better than to try to stand.

Remus took a moment before covering himself back up, and you both sat on the floor with your backs against the couch. No one said anything.

“Didn’t think you could get any hotter, but fuck was I wrong,” Evan said.

“Are you always the horniest one in the room?” you joked.

“I don’t know, is he?” Marlene said, turning toward Sirius.

Sirius flicked embers into an ashtray. “Meaning?”

Marlene’s voice was not as confident as before. “You seemed to enjoy the show.”

“Oh, come on, Marlene, don’t start shit right now. You got what you wanted, you saw her fuck. You in or out?”

Marlene looked around the room, and everyone was focused on her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees.

“I’m already in. I never left the group,” she said dryly.

“One more shot,” Remus said, and Dorcas tried to speak up in protest, but Remus shushed her. “One more shot, but if you pull any shit, you’re out.”

Dorcas threw her hands in the air. “You come and suddenly you’re in a nice mood?”

“Y/N?” Remus said, looking to you, “that seem fair?”

You looked up at Marlene. She was clearly insecure about someone in this group, and if she left right now, you’d never find out who. Regardless, you didn’t feel like drama. If she stayed, whatever.

“Whatever.”

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @alixmarauders @riddlemenottsluttyslytherin @twilightlover2007 @hcqwxrtss123 @queerndepressed @prongs-wolfstar-marauders @flowersarcute @remussbitch @ch4rlotte35 @alwaysanundertone @urfavhanna @donovorita28 @randomcreator-09 @joey-hoey @chronically-sh-ana @pinksmellslikelove @blvebanisters @aaronhotchswife @roseblack1864 @chaevvonders @champomiel @the-flaminhos @ilovesugurugeto69 @sammyreid @treefairy-28 @aza-writes @made-for-oliverwood @kaileygirl444 @livslifeonline @hi172826 @greyeyedmockingbird @prettylittlewrites @st0rmzi3 @butterchicken06 @yarri0 @camslut7 @ilovewhiteboysforlife @bibblemiluvr @moonyxstars @charlxzagzy @maxinehufflepuffprincess @yejiswifex @maverickgalathynius @bmyva1entine

[lymtw]

hello Mal!!! i have a nsfw req for toji x shy reader cuz they’re my fav and i literally think about it 24/7.

shy reader who’s not as vocal during sex with toji bc she gets nervous :( so he edges her til she squirts for the first time but only if she uses her voice!!!

A/N: Hello, hello! Thank you for reading and for sending this request in ☺️💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

"What are you doing down there?" Toji asks, finally giving in to the distraction of you sitting at his feet, rather than sitting next to him.

"I'm watching the movie," you respond, with an innocent amount of truthfulness. You don't turn around to look at him, so you're met with a poke to your shoulder. That instinctively makes you turn your head in the direction of the contact.

"The couch is too big. Even for me, doll. Come sit." He pats the spot next to him and shifts where he sits, as if making even more room for you.

Your eyes flit between him and the cushion for a couple seconds before you respond. "I'm okay staying here. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." You smile, kindly, and turn back to face the screen again.

Toji's brows furrow in misunderstanding. He taps your shoulder again, receiving the same look when you turn, again. You tilt your head in question.

"You wouldn't be making me uncomfortable. Far from it, with the enormous gap of space that would be between us. What if I wanted you to sit between my legs, instead?" He catches the way your eyes widen for a split second, your inhibition cleared for the short span of time. "Come sit, baby," he repeats, this time patting the unoccupied space of the cushion he's sitting on.

You don't want to make him wait any longer. The movie is still playing, you'll both lose track of the plot if you take any longer. You stand from your place on the ground and move to sit next to him. As soon as you bend down to sit, his hands go to your hips and he pulls you so that you fall into the place he wanted you in.

"There you go. Now pay attention to the movie."

–

You try for him. You're trying so hard to ignore the pressure of his forearms around your waist, and the warmth of his wrists against the sliver of skin revealed by your slightly lifted shirt. You can occasionally hear him sigh through his nose, only further adding on to the tension you feel upon sitting between his legs. You don't even know how he's watching the movie. You feel like you're obstructing his vision.

The movie ends and you're left staring at the title screen.

"Okay, movie's over. You probably want me off-"

"No." His arms fasten even more around you. "I'm comfortable. Are you not?"

"N-No, I am. It's just... I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep me here for a whole other movie."

"I could keep you here longer than that, doll." He straightens his posture and readjusts your position, so that he's not slouching and you're not leaning back uncomfortably. He can feel the tension surface on your body as you go rigid in his hold. He can't help but let out a small laugh at how this detail never ceases with you. "Relax, baby. What's got you so nervous?" He rests his chin on your shoulder and turns to get a better look at your face. "Hm?" He plants a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Nothing, I guess. We're just watching movies," you say, more as a reminder for yourself.

"Mhm. Watching movies... on the verge of cuddling..." he mumbles, into your neck. "Nothing to be nervous about."

His hands splay over your lower abdomen and you think he might be caressing your skin so sensually to mess with you after having said all those things to comfort you, but he's not relenting on the joke. He's kissing your shoulder, aiming to relieve you of some of your anxiety so that your body can melt into comfort. It has some effect on you, your nerves being mixed with something hot, now.

"We can do more than cuddling, if you want," he hums, grinning at the way you shudder. "You know, i've been dying to hear that pretty voice of yours."

"What?" you say, laughing nervously, like you misheard him.

"You've got a really nice voice, baby. I swear, I could listen to you talk, endlessly. Wish you would use it when I take you to bed. You don't make a peep, doll."

You go silent. Not because you're upset with him, or because what he said isn't true, but because you can't think of how to respond to that. You didn't think he was monitoring the sounds you make. He never said anything about it before. You figured maybe he preferred the silence.

"It's embarrassing..." you finally mumble, quickly turning around to right what may have come out wrong. "F-For me! Just me. You're fine to make all the sound you want. It's... it's just me." You turn back around to hide the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks.

"Why is it embarrassing? Am I not making you feel good enough?"

You can't let him feel that way.

"No, Toji- That's not- No, no, no. That's not the case, at all." You unwind his arms from your torso and turn to face him. You fully sit on his lap, and though the eye contact that comes after you wrap your legs around him was like having three cups of coffee on an empty stomach for your heart, you summed up the courage because it's not fair to let him think that way when it's the exact opposite. "I just..." you let out a small sigh. "I don't wanna be loud. I don't want you to hear me. God... I can barely even look at you when we... you know." You look down at where your hands absentmindedly rested on his stomach. "Sorry."

He's just smiling at you because he finds your entire existence beside him to be endearing. His hands go to yours. "I get to stare at your pretty face the entire time." He grins, watching the way your cheeks burn and how you try to distract yourself from his gaze by fidgeting with his hands. "You always look so good, ma. Bet you sound just as pretty."

There was so much tension in the silence that followed. He started playing with your hands. He would interlock his fingers with yours before slowly detangling your hands and repeating the process, flipping your hands this time. He got to feel the smoothness of your unpainted nails on the pads of his fingers, and he traced the lines etched into your palms.

Things got out of hand. One minute you were holding hands and laughing to yourselves with thoughts of how silly yet necessary the moment was, the next you were both undressing, and kissing like you missed each other terribly. He has his hands on your hips, guiding you up and down his cock while you hide your face in the crook of his neck. He's groaning and panting at the feeling of your velvety walls hugging him so tightly, and you just release little breaths into his neck, occasionally gasping when he hits a sensitive spot, as per usual.

"Baby," he pants, "let me hear you. Give me those pretty sounds."

"G-Gonna cum," you whisper, your breath becoming heavier with every upwards thrust of his hips.

"Not if you don't let me hear you."

He can feel you clenching around him more frequently. It's a telltale sign of your orgasm rolling in, so he immediately stops. Both of you are unsatisfied, but Toji can handle it for as long as it takes you to make a sound that isn't just your breathing. He can tell you want to, too, with the occasional squeaks that leave you.

"I-I was gonna-"

"And I meant what I said." He's just as edged and frustrated as you are. Despite not getting the sounds he wants from you so easily, you're still make him feel really good. Your touch, the skin-to-skin of you clinging onto him—it's enough to bring him towards the edge as well, and it takes every ounce of restraint for him to stop. He squeezes your waist when he sees the look of helpless desperation on your face. "You know I have all the patience when it comes to you, doll. We can do this all night. I just wanna know—audibly—that I'm making you feel as good as you say I am. Alright?"

You sigh, but nod in understanding.

"Good. Let's try that again."

Despite your gesture of comprehension, you're doing the same thing all over again. You're feeling good, you're comfortable and Toji sounds immensely hot as he continues to drive you up and down his length. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, your face once again buried into the crook of it. All that can be heard from you is your breathing, the warm air fanning over his already heated skin.

"Doll," he calls, feeling the way you mouth at his shoulder and neck.

"Please, just a little longer. Please," you murmur, feeling that spike in pleasure return again.

"Doll, you're not..." he groans. He knows he has to stop or you'll get what you want, and what he wants will be pushed aside. "You're not letting me hear your pretty voice."

"Please, please, please, Toji. I-I'm right there..."

"Uh-uh." With heavy hands weighing down your hips like cinder blocks, you're once again denied of that weakening force of pleasure.

"T-Toji," you utter, weakly. You drag your face down to his chest, and allow all the heavy breaths of the forceful stop to come out. Your cunt is throbbing, viciously. You're aching for more of him.

The man who usually caved to your every want and put your needs before everything, was suddenly being incredibly selfish with your pleasure, stopping every time you say you're close. You think you can find a way around it by just not warning him, but he knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows every one of the signs that come with your orgasms, making it pointless for you to try to evade his torture. He's done it to the point where you feel like mush, sluggishly lying against him.

"Look at me, doll. Lift your head."

"Mm-mm." You shake your head against his shoulder.

"Be good." He chuckles at your stubbornness and allows a hand to rest on your lower back. "I'm trying to give you what you want, so would you just look at me."

You sigh, before you start peeling yourself, little by little, off of him.

He immediately notices the involuntary lift of your lips. "Ooh, look at that pout. Could've just told me you wanted a kiss, doll." He smirks, watching as you turn your head slightly to hide the scorch on your cheeks. It's not the main thing you wanted, but you weren't mad when he did pull you in for a kiss, because he started moving his hips again, the pace slow as your lips remained locked. That slow pace was how every one of these torturous cycles started out, but this time it was different. It was now harder to get what you wanted.

"Eyes on me, baby, or I stop."

"I can't- Please, Toji." You want to bury your face in the crook of his neck, again. You want to hide yourself from those eyes of his that never fail to make you feel vulnerable.

"Eyes on me... or I stop," he repeats, calmly, as if enduring all of these stops is such a simple task for both of you. You look at him, and immediately feel like you're being swallowed whole. You feel like he's eating you alive with just his gaze. The sweat beading on his forehead, the tint of color on his cheeks, the lust that simmers in his eyes… it's an insane visual. It's overwhelming.

He sees it, though. The way you try to still your bottom lip as it quivers, the way your chest spasms from holding it all in, your pleading eyes. It's all so... you. So fragile, so timid, so small. So beautiful.

"Good girl. Yeah... just look at me," he instructs, and you whimper. Your gaze falls to his chest as embarrassment floods you at light speed. Your hands reach out for him like they do when you're ready to wrap your arms around him again, but he intercepts them. The brief noise homed into Toji's ears, and rushed straight down to his dick. He can't afford to be deprived of your facial expressions when he now knows what your pretty voice sounds like when it's laced with need. "Fuck... again. Do it again, princess. I heard that loud and clear."

"P-Please. Please, let me go back." You test the strength of his grip, twisting your wrists in his hold. He responds by pushing your arms behind you, the edge of his palms grazing your lower back with every bounce of you on his cock.

"What did I say, baby? Huh? Lift your head and look at me." When you refuse to listen and keep staring at his chest, he decides to give you a countdown for when he's going to stop. "Three..."

"No! Okay, okay," you say, complying with lifting your gaze. Your pleasure skyrockets when you make eye contact with him. He gives you a little smirk, like he's proud of you for showing him that you'll always be good for him, even if you're stubborn about it.

"Shit, mama. You feel so fucking good. Might just cum before you, if you keep this up."

You moan at the threat and bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from looking away again. Every sound you let slip makes Toji pick up the pace of his thrusts. They're always precise, so with the speed rising, you think you might catch up to his pleasure. "Please, Toji. Please." The second plead comes out as a whine. "Please, i'm... um..." you hum, shutting your eyes briefly at the sensation of him prodding your sensitive spot again and again. "I'm..." Another whimper slips out.

"Yeah?" He murmurs, watching you struggle to finish your thought, through lidded eyes. "Get it out. All of it."

You're cracking. Your little moans are becoming more and more audible. "I'm trying." You gasp, the breath coming out shaky.

Toji is devouring all of it. His focus is unbreakable, and his thoughts of you are greedy. He wants more than what you're giving him. He wants you to be louder, he wants you to scream his name, he wants to make you cum so hard that you let go of all that embarrassment and moan freely for him.

He removes one of his hands from your wrists, keeping them restrained with his other hand, so that he can toy with your clit. The rush of pleasure makes you twitch above him, a sweet moan instantly released by you. You feel so flustered, you can't hold the sounds back as well as before. It's the unfaltering look he throws at you. He has no trouble holding eye contact with you.

He's obsessed with this show you're putting on for him. The way you're crumbling for him, slowly giving in and losing your tentativeness towards making sound. You remain overwhelmed by all of it. The heavy breathing, his groans, the rapid movement of his thrusts, his rough thumb stroking your clit, the way you're so lost in the pleasure of it all that you've become just as greedy as him, chasing even more stimulation by grinding your hips against him. It's a loud scene.

"T-Toji, Toji!" You gasp. "I'm- Oh!"

"Oh fuck. Cum," he growls. "Cum, pretty girl. Cum for-"

Your entire body is trembling on top of him. Loud cries fill the room as your orgasm washes over you, in the most unbelievably messy way. Toji is stunned, entirely speechless as he fucks you through this intense orgasm. Your back is arched in so much you think your spine might snap, and you can't for the life of you stop crying out his name. This is one of the most powerful orgasms he has pulled from you, if not the most powerful. Toji's lap is drenched, your ass and the backs of your thighs are wet. It's never happened this way before. Your mind is so clouded, you can't even think of what just happened.

Not even a minute later, Toji mirrors you in experiencing that feeling of pure ecstasy, heavy pants and groans released, carelessly, by him. His warm load is shot into you, adding on to the mess when it begins to drool out of you and down his length.

You're both breathless, left frozen in your positions for a good amount of time, while you think about what just happened. You come down from your blissful state first and can't even think to look at him. You pull your hands out of his weakened grip and rest them on your thighs and just stare at them until he says something. You don't know what to say, so you'll let him do the talking.

It was a heat of the moment type thing. Completely unexpected and he's shocked to say the least. It takes Toji a couple minutes himself to think of what to say, but ultimately, he thinks this is the best way to break the ice...

"You just squirted... all over me."

You don't even look up at him when he says that. You just might cry from the continuously skyrocketing level of embarrassment you're feeling.

"Do you have anything to say about it?" He asks, to which you just shake your head. He lets a couple seconds go by, just to add an unnecessary dramatic effect to the situation, before picking up the conversation again. "Well, good thing I have some things to say about it, pretty." He grins and wraps you up in his arms, allowing you to return to your safe space. "You know how much I love you, right?" He says, turning his head to look down at your face. You hum in response and nod against his shoulder. "And that I only pushed you so that you wouldn't hide your voice from me anymore?" You nod again. "Well, I was right." He smirks, thinking of how he got exactly what he wanted. "I'll leave it at that so you don't overheat on me."

He sighs, contentedly, at the feeling of you being so relaxed in his arms now, compared to before. "You did so well for me, mama," he says, before pressing multiple kisses to your head.

There's a beat of silence. Toji can't stop thinking of that spontaneous moment. It's stuck on loop in his head. It's not convenient in this moment, since you're cockwarming him, but before you know it, he's half hard inside you again.

"You think I can make you do it on purpose, this time?"

[iconbyunghun]

Drive Me Home

Pairing: Hwang In-ho x Fem!Reader

Summary: A simple ride home takes an unexpected turn when tension and desire get the best of you, especially when the man driving is your best friend's father.

Warnings: Smut 18+, MDNI, age gap (early 20s/50s), car sex, unsafe sex, creampie, slight degrading.

Word count: 3.1 k

a/n: I don’t know where all these words came from; this was supposed to be short. uh, I hope you enjoy it!

The gentle breeze coming through the car window tousled a few strands of your hair. With a mischievous smile on your lips, you glanced sideways at the man who had just settled into the driver’s seat.

Hwang In-ho, your best friend’s father, was the one responsible for driving you home after the party you and his daughter had organized with some university friends. You were a little tipsy, and your friend had suggested that her father take you home in his car. Despite your attempts to convince her that you could just call a taxi, her concern made you give in.

It wasn’t the first time he had driven you home, so he already knew your address. Of course, on previous occasions, his daughter had always been present.

He couldn’t help but regret agreeing to let them throw a party at his house—by morning, he’d have to clean everything up and take inventory of all the broken glasses and other damaged things. He sighed, resigned. That would be a problem for later. Right now, his main concern was you, alternating between watching the road and stealing glances at him—furtive, yet not at all discreet.

“Won’t your parents say anything about you coming home at this hour… and drunk?” he asked, trying to break the ice.

“My parents are traveling, and I’m not drunk,” you replied, pretending to be offended, though the slight slur in your words made him chuckle.

“Riiight, not drunk at all,” he teased, playfully mimicking your tone. You couldn’t help but laugh. His charisma was your weakness—that, and the fact that he looked amazing for a man in his fifties.

“Hm, if your parents aren’t home, you could’ve stayed over,” he added.

“Yeah, I could have, but I didn’t want to impose,” you half-lied. “Besides, I also didn’t want to be stuck cleaning up the post-party mess on a Sunday morning.” You shrugged.

“Of course, let the old man do all the cleaning,” he said, feigning irritation.

“Old?” You looked at him, this time more intently. His hair was slightly tousled, and the sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms, where veins ran down to his large, masculine hands, firmly gripping the steering wheel. For a brief moment, you imagined what it would feel like to have them on your body.

He glanced at you for just a couple of seconds. The city lights reflected on your face—not too bright, but enough to highlight the sparkle in your eyes as you observed him with a mix of curiosity and admiration. He wondered if it was the alcohol that had you looking at him like that.

“I guess I am a little old,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of resignation.

He turned his attention back to the road, hoping you’d do the same and stop scrutinizing him. But this time, you didn’t follow his lead. Instead, you shifted in your seat, curling your legs up and hugging your knees against your chest. The movement caused the hem of your dress to slide up past your knees, so you pressed your legs together, trying not to reveal too much… at least not yet.

From your new position, your entire focus was on him—concentrated on driving, oblivious (or perhaps not so much) to the way you were watching him.

“Well, you look better than any guy I know,” you blurted out without a filter, uninhibited—whether by the alcohol, the night… or by him.

He let out a low chuckle, though he seemed slightly uncomfortable as he stopped at a red light. Your comment had caught him off guard.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

“That wasn’t a compliment. That was the truth,” you said with a playful smile. “Guys my age are all idiots.”

“I suppose you have plenty of those idiots chasing after you,” he said, turning to gauge your reaction.

“There’s always a few,” you paused, debating whether to say what was on your mind. “But… I prefer older men.”

Your eyes locked onto his just as you bit your lower lip slightly, under his intense gaze—a gesture both casual and deliberate.

In-ho smiled, the slight curve of his lips confirming that he knew exactly where you were going with this. Of course, he wasn’t a naive man. At his age, he could easily recognize blatant flirting, and you were making it painfully obvious.

There had been too many signs he had been trying to ignore—those short dresses that always seemed purposely chosen whenever you visited, the kisses that landed dangerously close to his lips when you greeted him, the hugs that lasted a little too long, your chest pressing against his. The way you always found an excuse to brush against him, with a sweetness that pretended to be innocent… but neither of you truly believed that.

He had always tried to keep his composure, to act with the restraint expected of someone his age. After all, you were just a reckless young girl with raging hormones. And he, despite having been divorced for over two years, had neither the time nor the patience to date again—especially not someone so young.

At least, that was what he had always told himself. But this time, the situation felt different. There was something about the contrast between the rosy tint on your cheeks and your slightly tousled hair, the way you looked at him with that almost pleading gaze. You were completely alone, and the darkness of the night made everything feel more intimate.

His eyes traced down your exposed legs to your crimson heels. Under any other circumstances, he would have scolded you for dirtying his car seat. But not now… not when you were so dangerously close that it would only take him a few seconds to slide his hands over your thighs and take you as he pleased. Oh, just the thought sent an electric pulse straight to his cock.

“You’re a bold little thing, you know that?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as his gaze returned to your face. Something in his expression had changed.

“Hmm, well, you don’t seem to mind. Or do you?” you shot back almost instantly, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh no, it doesn’t, sweetheart."

The way he said that pet name sent a flutter through your stomach. You briefly glanced at the traffic light, which had already turned green, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to move. Not that it mattered—at this hour, the street was completely deserted.

Before you could react or come up with a witty response, he acted first. With unsettling ease—or maybe simply because you didn’t resist—he took your right hand and, with a gentle tug, pulled you toward him. The sudden closeness made you lower your legs back onto the car floor, seeking stability. His face was now dangerously close to yours.

Before you could process it, he guided your hand with determination straight to his crotch.

"Do you want to see just how much I like that little tease of yours?" he added in a deep voice.

A sharp breath escaped your lips as you felt how hard he was and how his much larger hand pressed over yours, keeping it firmly against his arousal.

Shit. If this was some kind of alcohol-induced dream, you hoped you’d never wake up.

The look of surprise on your face only seemed to amuse him more. His gaze dropped to your lips, and without a second more of hesitation, he closed the distance between you. His hands slid up to your face, ensuring you followed his pace. Within seconds, his tongue parted your lips, exploring your mouth with restrained hunger.

A shiver ran down your spine as you searched for something to hold onto, something to steady yourself. With your free hand, you tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently at a few strands.

His reaction was immediate—a soft gasp, barely a whisper against your lips, his body shuddering under your touch—clumsy, yet eager—both in his hair and over his straining length.

When the need for air became unbearable, you broke apart.

The sight of your tousled hair, your heavy breathing, and your swollen, glistening lips—slick with both your saliva and his—completely shattered the last threads of his self-restraint.

"Come here," he demanded.

Adjusting his position, he unbuckled his seatbelt and reclined his seat back, making enough room for you to kneel between his legs.

You settled yourself as best you could, your face just inches away from his erection, still concealed beneath his pants but under the weight of his intense gaze.

"This is what you wanted so badly, isn’t it?" he murmured. "To be on your knees, ready to suck my fucking cock?"

The sheer filth of his words only made the fire inside you burn hotter.

You nodded clumsily, placing your hands on his thighs.

"Good. If you’re going to act like a little slut, you’d better take responsibility for it."

Without waiting for an answer, his hands went straight to his belt, swiftly undoing it. Your hands moved on instinct, reaching for the button of his jeans. He let you take over, pulling his hands back as you continued.

Once unbuttoned, you slowly unzipped his jeans, dragging it out in a torturous way—for him, at least. He helped by lifting his hips slightly, and soon, his jeans were pooled around his ankles.

In front of you, his hard length strained against the fabric of his gray boxers, a small damp spot visible where the tip pressed against the material. You hadn't been wrong to fantasize about its impressive size. Eager for more, you ran your tongue over it through the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband, carefully freeing him.

He smirked at the expression of raw desire on your face, a flicker of pride mixing with arousal. The thought of someone so much younger, eager to take him in her mouth, sent a spark of heat through him.

Wrapping your fingers around his length, you stroked him slowly, feeling his heat and velvety texture. Finally, your lips parted, and as you took him into your mouth, a shudder ran through you. The salty taste of his skin flooded your senses, making your core tighten with anticipation. You took him as deep as your throat allowed, swirling your tongue around him and sucking gently as you pulled back. Your eyes fluttered shut as you focused on the sensation—his heavy breathing, the way his fingers slid into your hair, guiding your movements.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice rough with need. His grip tightened as he tugged your hair, pulling you back just enough to leave only the tip resting on your tongue. Your tear-brimmed eyes met his, a sinful mix of pleasure and submission. The sight alone nearly undid him.

The car's interior felt suffocating, thick with heat and tension. Fogged windows bore witness to the electricity crackling between you.

With a firm pull, he shifted you onto his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs. The moment you settled, his mouth claimed yours again, devouring you with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His tongue moved with purpose, teasing, demanding, leaving you breathless beneath him.

His hands wasted no time finding the hem of your dress, sliding it upward, exposing more of your heated skin beneath his eager touch. He pulled you closer, his grip possessive, his fingertips digging into your flesh—enough to ensure you'd still feel him tomorrow.

His lips broke from yours, trailing lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His teeth grazed your skin before his lips soothed the sting, marking you in ways you knew would linger long after this night.

"I-I need you…" you whimpered, feeling the firm press of his arousal against the softness of your inner thighs.

A shaky breath left him before his hands found the waistband of your panties. He toyed with the delicate fabric, stretching it, teasing you with just enough friction to make you squirm. A wicked grin tugged at his lips before he gave a sharp tug, tearing the fabric effortlessly, discarding it without a second thought.

Gripping himself, he lined his aching length up with your entrance. His gaze lifted to yours, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the way your eyes silently pleaded for more.

"Be a good girl and ask me nicely," he demanded, savoring your anticipation as he teased your entrance, using your own arousal to lubricate himself.

"Fuck me... please," you begged, moving impatiently in search of more friction.

With a satisfied smile, he aligned himself before slowly pushing in to the hilt, a deep, guttural moan escaping his throat. His large hands gripped your hips, kneading your flesh.

"I-In-ho... fuck, it's... so big," you squealed, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, lost in the sensation of his length stretching you. "It feels so good."

He remained still for a few seconds, savoring the way you clenched around him, the warm wetness enveloping him so perfectly that, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you over and over again.

When he finally began to move, he did so with slow, deep thrusts, letting your body take him in completely. Your slickness made everything easier, making him crave more of your tight pussy. His pace quickened—deeper, harder, more of your breathless moans filling the air.

Ragged groans escaped his throat as he pressed his head against the backrest of the seat. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had sex, and the sensation of your walls gripping him, your nails digging into his skin, and the desperate, needy whimpers spilling from your lips right next to his ear had him on the verge of madness.

At that moment, nothing else existed—just the two of you, the tension, the relentless collision of your bodies, the frantic heartbeat that kept you both trapped in the moment.

And when everything finally reached its peak, your lips found each other in desperation. Your orgasm hit first, overwhelming, your hips moving on their own as you ground down on him, desperate for more. The way your pussy clenched and pulsed around him sent him over the edge. He gripped your hips tightly, his movements becoming erratic, and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling his release as your walls throbbed around him, milking every last drop.

You collapsed against his chest, pressing your head over his racing heartbeat, both of you still struggling to catch your breath.

A few seconds passed before you felt his arms wrap around you.

“Fuck,” he exhaled in a breathy sigh. The haze of lust slowly began to lift from his mind, and reality started to set in. “My daughter can’t find out about this,” he muttered. His voice was still heavy with exhaustion, lacking the sharpness to sound truly serious.

You slowly opened your eyes and pulled back slightly to look at him.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoffed, giving his chest a playful slap. How could that be the first thing on his mind after the way he just fucked you? “Of course she won’t find out.” You rolled your eyes, and he fell silent.

The air inside the car was still thick, heavy with the scent of sex, a lingering reminder of what had just transpired. Your breathing had steadied, but the heat between you had yet to fully dissipate.

You felt him softening inside you and shifted just enough for him to adjust his boxers and pants. You smoothed out your dress with deliberate slowness, running your hands over the fabric in a way that was almost teasing. In-ho averted his gaze, turning toward the window as he fastened his belt, but his attempt at indifference failed—his eyes betrayed him, flickering back to your chest before he could stop himself.

“You owe me a new pair of panties,” you remarked with a mischievous smile, rocking your hips slightly on his lap.

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured, his dark eyes tracing your face. You were absolutely stunning.

“Didn’t seem to bother you a few minutes ago.”

His jaw tightened, as if holding back the words he really wanted to say.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before slipping back into the passenger seat. He wasn’t sure whether to take it as an affectionate gesture or as pure mockery.

The rest of the drive was quiet—but not in an uncomfortable way. The tension still lingered in the air. When he finally parked in front of your house, you made no immediate move to leave. Instead, he was the first to open his door.

“You don’t have to walk me to the entrance.”

“I know,” he replied, stepping out and circling the car.

He opened the door for you—a gentlemanly gesture that starkly contrasted how he had handled you just minutes ago. As you stood, you felt his eyes briefly rake over your figure. It was involuntary, but you noticed. And you loved it.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, leaning casually against your front door with a playful smile.

“Thanks for…” In-ho paused, seeming to reconsider his words. “…Nothing. I’m not saying anything else.”

You laughed softly, tapping a finger against your lips in mock contemplation.

“You know, you could come in for a bit,” you suggested casually, pretending to search for your keys in your bag. “It’s late. We could have a drink.”

He looked at you with a mix of disbelief and warning, as if you were temptation itself standing before him.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said, his voice low.

You stepped closer, closing the space between you.

“I think I can handle a little more,” you whispered, resting your hands against his chest, tilting your head slightly.

Silence stretched between you until In-ho let out a sigh—part surrender, part anticipation.

“Do you have whiskey?”

You bit your lip, holding back a victorious smile as you turned to unlock the door.

“You’ll have to come inside to find out.”

In-ho followed, a nearly imperceptible smile playing at his lips. This time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing. That would come tomorrow, when the weight of the night could no longer hide the guilt of his actions.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Unspoken Desires | LN4

🎀 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N had been friends for some time, having met through mutual friends. Lando had been attracted to Y/N from the moment they met, and his admiration for her only grew over time—particularly for her breasts. He thought no one knew about his fixation, but Y/N had figured it out. Once she realized Lando's obsession, she started wearing more revealing tops whenever she knew they would be in the same place. One night, when they ended up alone, Y/N began teasing Lando with her breasts. It was then that she confessed she knew about his attraction.

🎀 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎀 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.8k

🎀 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

Lando shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to avert his gaze as Y/N walked into the room. She had chosen one of those tops today—the kind that seemed designed to test the limits of modesty. The fabric clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination, and he could feel his pulse quicken as his eyes instinctively drifted downward.

Her boobs. He swallowed hard, cursing himself for being so obvious. Focus, Lando. Just focus. But it was no use. Every time she moved, the material stretched, teasing him with glimpses of what lay beneath. He wondered if she noticed his ogling. Surely not. He prided himself on being discreet, on making sure his admiration stayed hidden behind a veil of casual indifference.

Y/N sat down across from him, crossing her legs in a way that made the hem of her skirt ride up just enough to keep him guessing. "Hey," she said, her voice smooth and inviting. "You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind."

"Uh, nothing," he stammered, quickly glancing away. "Just… just thinking about work, I guess."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Work? Really? Because you’ve been staring at my chest for the past five minutes."

His face flushed instantly. "What? No! I wasn’t—"

Y/N leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. The movement caused her top to dip slightly, revealing just enough to make his breath hitch. "Relax," she said, her tone light but laced with something deeper. "It’s not a crime to appreciate a good pair of… assets."

Lando felt his throat go dry. Was she messing with him? Testing him? Or was she really this nonchalant about it? Either way, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Her confidence was intoxicating, and the way she toyed with him made it impossible to think straight.

"I… uh… I wasn’t staring," he mumbled, though the words lacked any real conviction.

She chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. "Sure you weren’t. And I suppose you haven’t spent every night since we met fantasizing about them either?"

His jaw dropped. "How—how do you know that?"

Y/N’s smile widened, and she tilted her head ever so slightly. "Let’s just say I’m observant. And you’re not exactly subtle, Lando."

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, he felt heat rising to his cheeks, his heart pounding in his chest. She knew. Somehow, she knew. And instead of being freaked out or angry, she was… playful. Teasing.

"Listen," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It’s okay. You don’t have to hide it anymore."

Lando blinked, unsure if he was hearing her right. "I don’t?"

"No," she replied, her tone confident yet inviting. "In fact, I kinda like it. It means you’re paying attention."

Her words sent a jolt through him, and he felt his resolve slipping. There was something in her demeanor, in the way she held herself, that made him want to lean in, to close the space between them. But he hesitated, unsure of how far she was willing to take this.

"Look," she continued, her hand reaching out to gently brush against his. "Why don’t we stop pretending? You want me, and I… well, I want you too."

Her admission hung in the air between them, heavy and electric. Lando’s mind raced. This was insane. They were friends. They had always been friends. But now, with her so close, her touch so warm, the lines blurred.

"Y/N," he began, his voice shaky. "Are you sure about this?"

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood up and rounded the table, her movements slow and deliberate. When she reached him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her fingers tracing small circles against his skin. "Positive," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear.

Lando shivered at her nearness, his body responding instinctively. He wanted to reach out, to touch her, but he was afraid—afraid of ruining whatever this was, afraid of pushing too far.

"Don’t overthink it," she whispered, her lips brushing against his earlobe. "Just let yourself feel."

And then, without warning, she stepped back slightly and pulled her top over her head, tossing it aside. Her breasts were exposed now, ripe and full, the pale curve of her nipples begging to be touched. Lando’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes fixated on her form.

"Y/N…" he muttered, his voice barely audible.

She smiled again, stepping closer until her hips were pressed against his lap. "Go ahead," she urged, her hands moving to guide his own. "Touch them. Adore them. Let me feel how much you’ve wanted this."

Y/N’s fingers curled around Lando’s wrists, her grip firm yet gentle, guiding his hands toward her breasts. His palms were sweaty, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest. He wanted to pull away, to tell her he couldn’t do this, but the weight of her confidence and the undeniable thrill of finally being allowed to touch her paralyzed him.

Her skin was so soft.

His fingertips brushed against the underside of her breast, and she let out a small, breathy moan that sent a shiver down his spine. She didn’t stop him, didn’t scold him for moving too slowly. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her head tilting slightly as if she were savoring the sensation.

“Lando…” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “You’ve been dreaming about this for so long, haven’t you? Don’t hold back now.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and nodded dumbly. Her nipple grazed against his palm, and he almost jerked his hand away in shock. But she tightened her grip on his wrist, anchoring him in place.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Feel how perfect they are. Tell me what you think.”

His mouth moved, but no words came out. All he could do was stare at her chest, at the way her breasts jiggled ever so slightly with every movement, at the rosy tips that seemed to perk up under his hesitant touch. He didn’t know what to say, how to articulate the chaos of emotions swirling inside him. Desire, guilt, disbelief—it all crashed together in his mind, making it impossible to form coherent thoughts.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” he stammered finally, his voice cracking.

She chuckled softly, a sound that was both comforting and intoxicating. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said, her tone warm and inviting. “Just show me how much you’ve wanted this. Show me how much you’ve thought about my body when you’re alone.”

Her words were a dare, a challenge, and Lando found himself unable to resist. With a quiet groan, he cupped her breast fully in his hand, his fingers tightening instinctively as if afraid she might slip away. The feel of her weight in his palm was surreal, something he had fantasized about countless times but never dared to believe could be real.

She was real.

He could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the rapid flutter of her heartbeat as it pressed against his palm. And then there was the taste of her name on his tongue, the way it rolled out of his mouth as if it belonged there.

“Y/N…” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

She rewarded him with another soft moan, her eyes fluttering closed as she pressed herself more firmly against his hand. “Yes, that’s it,” she whispered, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Touch me, Lando. Let me feel how much you’ve wanted this.”

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composure. Every stroke of his fingers against her skin felt like a spark igniting aflame within him. His other hand rose tentatively, mirroring the movements of the first, until both of her breasts were cradled in his palms. He kneaded them gently at first, marveling at their softness, their weight, the way they filled his hands perfectly.

And then, without warning, his thumbs flicked over her nipples, catching them between his fingers and rolling them teasingly. Y/N arched her back immediately, her head falling backward as a gasp escaped her lips.

“Oh…” she cried out, her voice trembling with desire. “Lando, yes… just like that.”

He could feel her pulse quickening beneath his fingertips, her body reacting to his touch in a way that made his own arousal impossible to ignore. His cock twitched against the fabric of his pants, aching for release, but he couldn’t tear his focus away from the woman in front of him.

Her breasts were even more magnificent up close, their pale perfection streaked with the faintest blush of pink. He marveled at the way her nipples hardened under his touch, the way they seemed to beg for more attention. And when his fingers circled them again, pressing lightly before releasing, she whimpered softly, her hips shifting against him.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice breathless and urgent. “Please, Lando… I need more.”

Her desperation sent a surge of triumph coursing through him. For so long, he had been the one craving, the one yearning for her attention. Now, she was the one begging, and the power of it was intoxicating.

With renewed confidence, he changed his technique, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts more firmly. His thumbs dragged slowly across her nipples, teasing them until they stood proudly, begging for more. Y/N’s moans grew louder, her hands gripping his shoulders for support as she pressed herself closer to him.

“Harder,” she demanded, her voice breaking slightly. “Touch me harder, Lando. I want to feel how much you’ve wanted this.”

Her words were a command, and Lando obeyed without hesitation. He pinched her nipples between his fingers, twisting them gently but firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. She bucked her hips against his lap, grinding against him in a way that left no doubt about her arousal.

“Ah! Yes!” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. “God, Lando… I knew you had it in you.”

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. His own need was growing unbearable, his cock straining against his zipper as he continued to explore her body. Each moan, each shudder of her body against his, only served to fuel his desire further.

“Y/N…” he muttered again, his voice hoarse with longing. “I can’t… I can’t take much more of this.”

She opened her eyes, her gaze smoldering as she looked down at him. “Then don’t,” she said simply, her tone daring him to push further. “Take what you want, Lando. Stop holding back.”

Y/N smirked, her eyes locking onto his as she slowly slid off the couch, her movements deliberate and confident. She knew exactly what she was doing. Lando watched her with wide eyes, his breath hitching as she dropped to her knees in front of him, her face level with his crotch. The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken desire that neither could deny any longer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, though there was no real question behind it. He knew exactly what she was doing.

“What do you think I’m doing?” she replied, her tone playful but laced with something deeper—something that made his heart pound harder in his chest.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she reached for the zipper of his jeans, her fingers brushing against his skin as she pulled it down slowly, deliberately. His cock twitched at the sensation, already hard and pressing against the fabric of his boxers. Y/N hummed softly, a sound that sent shivers down his spine, as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants and tugged them down just enough to free his aching erection.

“You’re so eager,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing as she wrapped her hand around his length, giving it a slow, firm stroke. “I can feel how badly you want this.”

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the couch as her touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through him. “God, Y/N…” he muttered, his voice strangled as he tried to hold himself together. “You have no idea.”

She laughed softly, a sound that made his stomach tighten with need. “Oh, I think I do,” she said, her tone dripping with confidence. “I think I know exactly how much you’ve been dreaming about this.”

Before he could respond, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock, teasing him mercilessly. Lando’s hips jerked involuntarily, his hands fisting in the fabric of the couch as he fought to stay still. “Please…” he begged, his voice cracking. “Don’t tease me like this.”

“Hmm, but I thought you liked it when I tease you,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes as she took him into her mouth, her warm, wet tongue swirling around the head of his dick before sliding down his length.

Lando groaned loudly, his body arching off the couch as her mouth worked its magic on him. She sucked gently at first, her lips tight around him as she bobbed her head up and down, taking him deeper with each movement. Her hair fell around her face like a curtain, framing her in a way that made her look even more irresistible. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair as he tried to steady himself. “You’re killing me…”

She pulled off him with a pop, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she looked up at him. “Am I now?” she teased, running her tongue along her lips as if savoring the taste of him. “Well, maybe I don’t want to kill you just yet.”

With that, she shifted her position, kneeling up slightly as she cupped her breasts in her hands, pushing them together to create a perfect shelf for his cock. Lando’s eyes widened as he realized what she intended to do, his breath catching in his throat as she guided the tip of his dick between her cleavage.

“Do you like that?” she asked, her voice sultry as she began to rock her shoulders, using her tits to fuck him. “Do you like feeling my boobs wrapped around your cock?”

“Yes,” he choked out, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he struggled to stay upright. “God, yes…”

Y/N continued to move, her breasts slick with the saliva from her mouth as she pressed them tightly around him, squeezing him with each thrust. Lando’s vision blurred with pleasure, his whole body trembling as she worked him over, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so good at this,” he managed to pant, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t believe you’re doing this for me…”

She grinned wickedly, her eyes locking onto his as she quickened her pace, her tits bouncing with every movement. “Believe it,” she said, her tone sharp and commanding. “And don’t you dare come until I tell you to.”

Lando groaned, his head falling back again as he tried to obey her command, but it was nearly impossible. Her tits felt so good around him, so warm and soft and tight, and the way she moved only made it worse. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, his orgasm threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Y/N…” he warned, his voice strained as he opened his eyes to look at her. “I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”

She smirked, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Good,” she said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Because I want you to feel every second of this.”

With that, she tightened her grip on her breasts, forcing them even closer together around his shaft as she rocked her hips, her movements becoming more erratic as she pushed him toward the edge. Lando’s breath came in short, desperate gasps, his body tensing as he felt the climax begin to build.

“I’m close,” he admitted, his voice barely audible as he struggled to hold on. “So close…”

Y/N didn’t say anything, just kept moving, her eyes never leaving his as she drove him closer and closer to the brink. And then, finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a loud groan, Lando came, his release spilling out over her breasts as she continued to milk him until every last drop was gone.

Panting, he collapsed back against the couch, his body limp and spent as he stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. Y/N, meanwhile, sat back on her heels, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as she looked down at him.

“Told you I knew what I was doing,” she said, her tone smug but undeniably sexy.

Lando couldn’t help but laugh weakly, his body still buzzing with pleasure. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice rough. “You definitely did.”

[meeraonpole]

Safe in His Arms

Summery: Lando notices a bruise on you and worries he might have caused it.

Warings: bruises let me know if there are anyothers

also i guess spoiler but lando didnt not cause the bruise

Lando was never one to pry. He knew when to give space, when to push, and when to just be there. But when he caught sight of the dark bruise blooming across your upper arm as you reached for a glass in the kitchen, all his instincts screamed at him to ask.

His fingers ghosted over your skin before he could stop himself. "What happened?"

You jolted at his touch, quickly lowering your sleeve and pulling away, your laugh forced. "Nothing, just bumped into something."

Lando frowned. "That doesn’t look like nothing."

You busied yourself with pouring water, avoiding his gaze. "It’s fine, Lando. Really."

His lips pressed into a thin line, eyes scanning your face for any sign that you were telling the truth. Something about the way you refused to meet his eyes made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

And then, a thought struck him. His throat went dry. "Did I—?" He swallowed, stepping closer but hesitating before reaching out again. "Did I do that? Last night? When I was drunk?"

Your eyes snapped to his, wide and alarmed. "No!" you said, shaking your head quickly, as if the mere idea of it was ridiculous. "Lando, you would never—" You sighed, your shoulders sagging. "You didn’t do this. I swear."

Relief flooded his face, but it didn’t last long. "Then who did?"

You didn’t answer. Instead, you took a sip of your water, your other hand coming up to hold your arm, like you could shield yourself from his concern.

Lando’s jaw tightened, but he knew better than to push when you weren’t ready to talk. Still, his mind raced with possibilities of who can even think of hurting you. He felt sick

From that moment on, you noticed the difference in him.

He became softer around you, more careful. When he reached for your hand, it was slow, deliberate. When he hugged you, his touch was feather-light, as if he was afraid of breaking you. Even when you playfully shoved him, he barely nudged you back, his eyes flicking to your arm like he was afraid of hurting you more.

"Lando," you sighed after the third time he pulled away from hugging you too quickly. "You don’t have to act like I’m made of glass."

His jaw clenched as he looked at you, something unreadable in his gaze. "I just—" He ran a hand through his curls. "I don’t want to make it worse."

You softened. "You won’t."

Still, he was careful. Too careful.

One night, as you lay curled up against his chest on the couch, his arm draped lightly over your shoulders, you finally whispered, "It was my boss."

Lando stiffened. "What?"

You exhaled. "It’s not the first time he's grabbed me too hard. But it won’t happen again. I quit today."

Lando’s chest rose and fell beneath your cheek, his heart beating a little faster. "I’ll kill him."

You smiled softly. "No, you won’t. You’ll hold me like this and remind me that I’m safe now."

His arm tightened around you—not too much, just enough. "You are safe. With me, always."

And you believed him.

Sooooo let me know how this was also guys i begging plz send yalls request i am running out of ideas let me know if yall want other drivers

[sixosix]

no one's ever had me, not like you

timeskip!hinata shoyo x reader

“Are you really sure that you’re swearing off of dating?”

You wonder how many times you’ll be asked that before you finally get pressured into mingling just to get them off your back. But Akane, bless her heart, looks genuinely concerned, like choosing to stay single was a cruel fate she wouldn’t wish for anyone to bear.

“It’s not a big deal,” you tell her. “Dating’s just not for me.”

You think back to all your previous relationships, and find that you have never been more sure of your decision.

“It just means you haven’t found the right one!” To your left, Yuki, who is alarmingly a lot of shots in, exclaims. She becomes violent when drunk. You would know, your arm is starting to turn red from her smacking when laughing.

You shrug uncomfortably. “I’m not looking for any right one.”

Akane and Yuki share a glance.

“Well, if you say so,” Akane cedes.

Then Yuki slams her hands on the table as she bolts upright, expression grave and voice low as she says, “We’re doing it, though, right?”

You laugh under your breath. Yuki looks a little ridiculous, drunk, and swaying on her feet even when standing still. Her grip on her glass wavers, and you quickly pluck it from her grasp, ignoring her protesting wail.

Akane brightens. “Yes! Of course we’re doing it!”

You instead hand Yuki a glass of water. “Doing what? Are you two up to no good again?”

“Yes!” Yuki exclaims at the same time Akane calmly clarifies, “Noya’s inviting close friends out for dinner tomorrow.” Which makes sense, because they were pretty much the same thing.

“Oh! Nishinoya’s back?”

“Just arrived today! He said he’s visiting for a while.” Akane fishes out her phone from her hand, then pulls out the class’s group chat that you could never bring yourself to check ever since it hit 999+ notifications. It displays a picture of Nishinoya holding up a peace sign, face serious, and next to a large airport sign.

You hum thoughtfully. “I guess if you guys are coming…”

“Let’s go!” Yuki pumps her fists in the air. Akane smiles and tells her to settle down. Akane drank twice as many shots than her.

“Who else is coming?” You ask. “I might pass if it’s the entire school.”

“Noya’s not that wild. I heard it’s just his volleyball team, Ryuunosuke, and us,” Akane says. “I heard they’re also celebrating because Noya’s treating his kouhai’s return from Brazil.”

“Brazil?” The other side of the world! “Yuu and his friends sure are adventurous,” you remark in amusement, sipping idly on your own drink. It’s milder than either of theirs since you were assigned as the designated driver.

“You’ve heard of the guy. Hinata Shoyo, I think it was.”

You inhale your drink and start heaving. Akane’s hands flutter all over you in panic while Yuki descends in deep thought.

Yuki snapped her fingers. “Oh, right! Wasn’t that the first year who had a big crush on you when we were in second year? Noya’s favorite kouhai, Shoyo.”

Hinata Shoyo.

The first time you met Hinata Shoyo was when Nishinoya decided to invite close friends to watch them play. It was an ordinary day, and they had just come back from the Interhigh preliminaries. Their coach agreed to let them take it slow and relax, so Noya used it as an opportunity to invite his friends (it was just you who was free) to watch (read: to show off).

Having nothing better to do during club hours, you agreed.

You were late, stuck with cleaning duty, and forced to catch up to Noya, who had first wheeled into the volleyball gymnasium. The door was shut. You took deep, deep breaths before sliding it open and nearly having your face flattened by a volleyball speeding towards you.

Well, of course, it was a volleyball gymnasium.

Luckily, you managed to swerve out of the way and prevent long-lasting damage to your face. But the shock was more brutal than the would-be impact. You gaped at the ball that rolled onto the grass miles away. Just how fast was that thing?

“Y/N!” Nishinoya’s voice rang throughout the stunned silence of the gym.

Your head whipped around just in time to see a little guy with a mop of orange hair bound over to you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry—-” He then looked up at you, now only inches away, and seemed to have run out of apologies. His face exploded in a bright shade of red, but his eyes looked like they were bluescreening.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s fine!” You wave your hand to dismiss his guilt. “I didn’t actually get hit. Well—almost. But I didn’t! That was amazingly fast!” You hoped the praise would snap him out of it, but he was still gaping at you like you’d grown two heads. Or maybe you had something on your face?

Nishinoya comes barreling over soon enough, brows furrowed. “Y/N! Are you okay? You could’ve died!”

You frowned. “Idiot. I’m not going to die from that.”

Your statement seemed to shatter the tension that froze everyone in place. The captain murmured for them to continue practicing as Noya fluttered all over you like a mother hen, insisting on an ice pack.

Tanaka materialized out of nowhere. “Y/N! It’s you!”

“Ryuu!” You exclaim in delight, returning his hug. “Ryuu, it’s nice to see you again!”

Nishinoya turned to the tiny redhead with a raised eyebrow. “You good, Shoyo?”

Shoyo finally flinched out of his daze, narrowly avoiding your curious eyes. “Y-Yes! I’m just—I’ll go get the ball!” he squeaked out, nearly tripping over his own feet on a flat surface.

Nishinoya snorted, sharp eyes following Shoyo. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Tanaka cackled. “No way! Is that why Hinata looks so constipated?”

Hinata Shoyo. You glanced back just in time to catch him fumbling with the volleyball, trembling like a frightened mouse. It’s cute.

Now, you can confidently state that Hinata Shoyo is no longer just cute. Five years later, July, in an unsuspecting get-together party hosted by Nishinoya, and Hinata Shoyo definitely isn’t the same as before.

“Everyone!” Nishinoya’s voice bellows out throughout the venue. For such a small guy, he has the voice of a booming speaker. “Everyone, quiet! Shoyo’s here!”

Choruses of Hinata! echo through everyone as the crowd dispersed and bounded over to where Nishinoya was. You hear a faint laugh and a “Thank you!” From here, you could tell that his voice had gotten deeper. Still light and high, but it was different from the squeakiness you remembered.

Ever since finding out that Hinata had been back from Brazil, it turns out that his grand debut in the Nationals was aired all over. He’s famous now, not just some kid in Karasuno’s Volleyball Club.

“Ooh,” Yuki giggles maniacally. She hasn’t drunk anything yet. “He’s here. Do you think he still has a crush on you?”

“I doubt it. It was probably because I was his senpai back then. Remember how you reacted to Daichi-san visiting our hall? Everyone in our class was swooning, especially the boys!”

“Something about volleyball players, I tell you,” Yuki says, her gaze drifting over to where Akane was giggling as she talked with them. “Hmm. Speaking of them, I think one of them is on his way here.”

“What?”

Yuki takes one last sip of her tequila shot and leaves without another word. You didn’t have to turn—didn’t even have to move. You can feel his presence the moment he is right behind you, like a burst of warmth hovering, but it’s gold and bright, so you’re not terrified

Hinata Shoyo sits beside you, asking for a drink. You can’t help but stare.

He turned to you, then seemed to do a double take. Hinata Shoyo—now built twice as big as he once was; no longer the cute, lanky, and short kouhai from your past; with neatly trimmed hair and a much deeper voice—stares at you in astonishment. Hinata Shoyo emits a wordless exclamation.

“Senpai!” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Hinata,” you laugh softly, fondly. “We’re not in high school anymore. I’m pretty sure we’re the same age. You can just call me Y/N.”

“Y-You—” He splutters, face tinged pink despite the untouched shot in front of him. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.” You smile, tilting your head and grinning wider at the way his eye catches on the curve of your neck. “So, how have you been?”

He forgets about the drink he just ordered, seemingly getting redder in the face as you inch closer. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed he was drunk. Hinata Shoyo grins sheepishly, blushing and looking beautiful under the dim lighting of the venue.

Swearing off of dating, hmm… 

You consider him—his bright eyes, his wide and ever-genuine smile, and his undivided attention on you. Does he still have a crush on you? Or was it just the surprise that had him so flustered? You throw your head back and gulp down a shot, ignoring the burn that slid down your throat. You suppose there was no harm in finding out.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

Blog Navigation Page

TWST Masterlist

Request Information

[literallyjusttoa]

I think I'm gonna make a reblog chian of all the little phrases and Apollo uses throughout ToA, now that I'm rereading it. Bc like, he has such a unique way of speaking, and I really wanna dig into it, you know? Ok let's start.

He says "heavens help me" instead of "heaven help me" using the plural the same way demigods do with "oh my gods". I'm guessing this is an acknowledgment of other pantheons? Or I'm looking too far into it, I've just never heard this phrase with a plural "heavens" before.

He calls Cade and Mikey "Ruffians" . And he makes fun of the arrow for being Shakespearean.

He also refers to people as "Mortals" a lot here, which I remembered him doing, but now I want to keep track and see if he keeps that up throughout all the books, or if it peters out near the end.

"I thought how amusing it would be if I could make the snake tattoos around his neck come alive and strangle him to death" I honestly love how violent Apollo's thoughts can be sometimes. Like, you can tell he's someone who has done shit like this before.

I also want to keep track of all the little anecdotes Apollo brings up, so we'll start with the guitar contest against Chuck Berry in 1957, which apparently ended with him getting repeatedly stomped on.

"But something told me this was not she" II love how it's the little things that really get across how old Apollo is. Rick could've easily just said "It wasn't her" or something, but instead he had Apollo phrase this in a way that is far more formal, and more reminiscent of the grammatical patterns of old english. Idk it's just really cool.

(Side note that's not connected to Apollo: Meg's glasses are black? I feel like I've been living a lie, I've been coloring them red for years lol)

God his metaphors are just so striking. Like, I can imagine the phrase "Whatever was left of my pride turned into ice water and trickled into my socks" but I don't want to, because that's such a visceral feeling. I like that Apollo inadvertently proving how poetic he is by making the reader as uncomfortable as possible.

I think I'm gonna start crying out "Horrors!" when I'm upset to. I think I deserve that level of drama.

ahh the classic "My blessings upon you!" Again, I love how every little line characterizes him. Either it's overly formal, like before, or subtly arrogant, like here, or both. It's so fun.

I need to write him saying "Sacred Sibyl!" more. Because that is such a fun little term. Rolls right off the tongue, honestly.

I think I'm gonna leave it there for now, but trust that I will definitely be adding more to this later. Bc Lester-speak is so fun to really look into.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Vicious

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ★ Wordcount: 1.8k

📽 —★ Summary: In the quiet solitude of your own home, you revel in the rare freedom of an empty house, indulging in forbidden pleasures on a hot summer day. The unexpected arrival of your dads buddy Joel turns your casual rebellion into something far more thrilling.

📽 —★ Warnings: 18+, mdni, reader is in college but is called a "school girl", wears a uniform that has a skirt. Joel and reader are both kinda assholes to each other. Mentions of smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, age gap (reader is early 20's, Joel is whatever you would like but in my mind 40's or older) p in v, uses of slut and whore, in this world and my daydreams Joel is able to get off multiple times without a break (I am not going for supreme accuracy I am going for porn), if I missed anything please let me know

📽 —★ Notes: Hello, welcome to my comeback fic. Please note that I am very rusty since posting my last fic in July 🫠 but I am very excited to be back writing, reading and posting once again! I hope you enjoy. I've missed being here with all you lovely humans so much 🥹

📽 —★ A big thank you to my wonderful friends for reading/hyping me: @milla-frenchy @evolnoomym @thundermartini and @syd-djarin who also helped me with the mood board 💋 love you all so much. And of course @saradika-graphics for the lovely divider

“I’m home!” you shout the second you walk in the door. Dead silent, no response. You shrug as you make your way to your room but pause halfway up the stairs. No one. That means you can do whatever the hell you want. You walk back down, throwing your backpack to the floor an head to the kitchen, grabbing one of your dad's beers from the fridge, taking it out to the deck. You retrieve your hidden cigarette pack taped beneath the table outside. You grab a cigarette and light it up as you lean back in the chair, opening your legs until your feet rest on either side of the lawnchair. After a stressful day at school, you need some kind of relief. Plus, your schoolgirl uniform is much too uncomfortable on a hot summer day, causing you to undo the top few buttons of your white blouse, allowing the small but cool breeze to graze your exposed skin.

“I always thought you were a bit of a slut.”

You look up to see your dad’s buddy Joel leaning in the doorway, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth as well. Instead of jumping up, snapping your legs shut, or covering your chest, you give him the finger. That guy can go fuck himself.

“And so polite too.”

“Joel, the last thing I need right now is you and your opinion. School sucked, and I don’t give a shit what you think of me.”

“Christ, kid, I was only fucking with you. I mean, you do look trashy as hell, but that’s okay. I like trashy.”

“Are you hitting on me now? Really? You’re like seventy.”

“Try again sweetheart,” he says, stepping out onto the deck. You try to ignore him as he walks closer until he stops directly in front of you.

“You like the view, asshole?”

“I don’t know,” he says, leaning down and tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have guessed white. I mean, you don’t seem like the innocent type. More like a black satin sort of girl.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “We have to wear white panties too. They check us every morning. We line up in a row, and they make us lift our skirts so they can see what we have on under them.”

“I’ll have to see if they have any openings. Sounds like a good job.”

“Oh fuck you. Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do with one of us, let alone three hundred.”

The bastard sinks down until he’s squatting in front of your now wet panties, still smoking as he admires the view. You finally reach down, open your legs wider, and give him the finger with your hand right in front of your cunt. If he wants to look, he can fucking look at that.

“If you didn’t want me, you’d be in the house already instead of sitting there with those pretty legs open.”

“Is that what you think?” you ask, trembling in spite of yourself. He’s a huge dick, but he’s also right. You do like teasing him, and the thought of him going home and jerking off over you is fun.

“I know it,” he says, sitting down at the bottom of the chair.

“And what would you do with a girl like me? I’ve probably had more sex than you’ll ever have. Better sex too.”

“What, with some stupid school boy who fucks like a jackhammer, hoping he’s found the right hole?”

You look at him, rolling your eyes and shaking your head before butting your cigarette.

“Why don’tcha unbutton that shirt some more? Let me see how you’ve filled out.”

“Jesus Christ. What do you think my dad would say if he saw you eyeing his daughter up and down like a piece of meat?”

“What do you think he’d do if he saw you sitting here spread eagle, smoking a cigarette and drinking his beer? His sweet little angel, showin’ off for his friend?" he responds playfully, raising his eyebrows.

You sit up in the chair, never breaking his gaze as you undo the next two buttons of your blouse, revealing your naked chest.

“You’re not going to do a thing,” you say, reaching down and opening your shirt just enough for him to get a glimpse. “You’re going to sit there and drool over my body.”

“Is that whatcha think?” he chuckles. “What's actually going to happen is that I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry.”

“You’d probably come the second you got a glimpse of my pussy. I bet you’re so hard right now you can barely think."

“Try me,” he says, moving up between your legs. His hand now under your skirt.

“Let go and I’ll show you,” you say, your voice nearly catching in your throat. He moves his hand in an instant. You reach down, gently touching the lips around your clit through the thin white fabric. Joel watches the entire time, never taking his eyes off of your hand. “Is this what you want?” you say, pulling the white cotton to one side, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes.

“It’s a start,” he replies as he moves closer. He lifts your legs up over his knees. You are silent as he unzips his pants, and as much as you try not to watch, you can’t help yourself. He reaches in, and in one fluid motion, his cock juts out of his boxers.

“Jesus,” you say as he begins to stroke himself slowly. He’s only partially hard, but his cock is big and thick, and you are on dangerous ground.

“Just like those high school boys?” he asks, reaching out, grabbing you around the waist. Before you can protest, he pulls you up onto his lap, his hard cock stuck between your pussy and his stomach. His other hand joins the first until his fingers dig into the cheeks of your ass. His face is inches from you.

“You don’t have the nerve,” you say, not willing to look away.

Joel wastes no time as he tears your blouse open, the last remaining buttons flying off as he pulls it down over your shoulders, your bare breasts now fully visible. He tugs it down even further until it slides off your arms, leaving you topless.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby. I’m going to push those panties to one side, shove my big cock in you, and then listen to you scream.”

“I’ll tell my dad,” you whisper.

“No you won’t,” he says, sliding his hand all the way beneath you. As he holds you tight, he slips his fingers beneath your panties and then inside your now soaking wet pussy, working them in and out for a few seconds before bringing his hand up to your mouth and pushing his fingers between your lips. You gladly lick your excitement off his thick digits, feeling his large cock grow against you.

“You’re going to come in seconds," you whisper. “If you even make it inside me. You have no idea how sweet my little cunt is."

“Guess we’ll have to find out. But first, let’s see if you’re right, or if you’re just a filthy little slut who needs another dick.”

Before you can think of a response, he lifts you up, pushing your panties to one side, and then guides his large cock into you. In one swift motion, he’s deep inside of you, and you are on his lap. You try to suppress a moan as he pulls you closer.

“You knew this was going to happen the second you saw me. And so did I,” he adds.

He begins to move slowly, feeling him slide in and out of you each time you tighten your grip. Fuck, he feels good; his cock hitting your walls in all the right places. It’s not fair.

“And you’re a whore,” he says, moving his mouth down your chin, making his way down your neck.

“You’re an asshole,” you mutter, causing him to thrust harder.

“Which is why you’re letting me fuck you.” His hands run through your hair, gripping it in his hand as he continues to fuck you. You moan louder, trying to hold back a scream as his fingers grip tighter and tighter around your hair. You can feel his balls throbbing against you as his breath quickens. You are on fire as his cock pumps into your wet, hot, sensitive pussy, causing both of you to groan loudly. You can tell he’s close to his own release; you can feel your pussy convulsing, and you start moving on him harder. He grabs your hips, holding you still as he pounds himself into you. His balls clench tight as he groans loudly in ecstasy, his breath harsh with lust. His climax soon follows after, rope after rope of hot liquid exploding inside of you. He stays buried inside of you as the orgasm takes over him completely. After a few moments of catching his breath, Joel looks at you and mutters between breaths, "Just because I came doesn’t mean I’m done with you.”

And then he pulls out of you, flipping you over, pushing you down onto the deck chair and your panties to the side so you can feel him against you, his cock still dripping. But then, somehow, he’s back inside of you, fucking you into the fabric of the chair. “You might be cute, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop.”

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, feeling his weight against you, pinning you down. When he reaches an arm around your neck, you begin to moan. Oh god, don’t stop Joel. Don’t stop fucking me; I’m gonna come.”

“That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come like the little slut you are.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, feeling yourself let go completely. You shake and tremble as you clench around him. His breath picks up as he’s close to his own orgasm.

“I’m going to come in this pussy one more time.”

“No!” you beg, needing to at least pretend to resist when in fact you don't want this to ever end. The thought of him coming in you again makes your pussy tighten in anticipation. Then finally, when it seems he won't ever come inside of you, he does. Your entire body begins trembling, fighting against another orgasm. As you feel him pull out of you, he turns you over, putting his hand in your panties and cupping your cheek. Your eyes open wide, and you can feel the warm liquid dripping from your thighs. He looks down at his own cock. It too has started to twitch.

“Look at the mess you made," he whispers, placing the tip of his cock into the wetness. "You'd better clean this up before someone sees. You're going to lick every drop,” he commands. You nod. "Good girl."

As you place kisses along his cock, licking away any remaining semen, Joel watches in amusement. You stand up, looking up at him.

“Are you satisfied?" you ask.

“For now," he smirks, turning towards the house. "See ya tomorrow." With that, he goes up the porch steps, his back to you and makes his way home, only to be back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after.

[athenamikaelson]

A/N- finn is hot- don't try to fight me on this

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 25

Word Count- 3.2k

Warnings- mentions of STDS, sex, condoms, bananas, THEO, decapitation, Kardashians

“Why are you smiling like that?” I finish applying the lipstick Rebekah sent me as an apology gift for attacking Elena, and glance over to Theo leaning against the doorframe.

“I just had a good dream,” I mumble as I stand up from my desk and grab my jacket.

Theo hums.

“So it has nothing to do with you letting that mutt slobber all over you last night…or his brother coming over right after and spending the night with you… I must say sister, juggling two bitches,” Theo wipes away a fake tear, “I’m so proud of you.”

I whip around and glare at him, “Theodore Monty Y/l/n, watch it!”

Theo smirks at me and raises his hands. 

“All I’m saying is that like 3 weeks ago the only side piece you had on your arm was Elena, and now you’ve got two brothers. Upgrades sister, hell ya!”

Theo throws out his palm for me to high-five. I don’t. Instead, I walk around him and down the hallway to the front door. 

Theo continues to speak.

“Now I know you’ve had zero playtime soooo I think we should chat about this. For example, we should have the talk.”

I freeze. 

“Theo, I will smother you in your sleep if you continue to talk.”

“Y/n, I don’t like children, I don’t want any nieces or nephews running around.”

I glare over my shoulder at him, “They’re vampires, you dimwit. They can’t have kids.”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before nodding, “Okay. Well, what about STDs? What if there are vampire STDs you could catch? One look at that mutt from last night and I bet he’s got something you can catch other than fleas.”

I feel my face drop as Theo continues to mutter things to himself about vampire sexually transmitted diseases. 

I shake my head, open the front door, and leave the house, hearing Theo call from behind me. 

“Fine run! But don’t think for a second young lady that we won’t be discussing things later! And trust next time I see either one of those fools I will be asking them about Vamp STDs!”

At that exact moment, our 82-year-old neighbor Shelley, exits her house. I’m pretty sure her look of pure shock and horror mirrors mine. 

“Oh hi Mrs. Davenport,” Theo yells happily.

—

“Hey Bonnie, how are you?”

The phone line is silent for a moment as I hear Bonnie closing a door.

“I’m fine…I guess. My mom’s going to finish her transition,” Bonnie’s sad voice makes me frown as I stare at the red light in front of me. 

“I’m sorry, Bonnie,” I think back to last night and try to shake away the image of Esther’s decapitated head from my head, “If I would’ve known your mother…”

“Don’t apoligize, Y/n. It’s not your fault. And ya… it sucks she has to become a vampire but…it beats losing you or Elena. And I swear, Y/n, as soon as Damon told me that if the originals died, you would die with them, I tried stopping the spell. I would have never done it in the first place if I knew you’d die too.”

Bonnie’s earnest voice makes me smile, “I trust you, Bon. And thank you.”

I hear someone say something to Bonnie and she sighs, “I’ve got to go.”

“It’s ok, Bonnie. We’ll talk soon. Give yourself some time with your mother before coming back to this mess over here. You deserve it.”

“Okay, thank you. And when I get back we’ll find a way to get you out of that soul bond mess and away from the Mikaelsons.”

“Uh, ya, ok. Bye, Bonnie.”

I end the call and pull into the Grill’s parking lot. As I step out of my car, cross the street, and enter the grill, one thought won’t leave my head.

“What if I don’t want to break the bond?”

—

“Y/n?”

I stop walking and smile when my eyes meet Finn’s brown ones.

“Hey, Finn,” I slide into the seat in the booth across from him and can’t help but smile at the obvious discomfort he has plastered on his face.

“You look…”

“Uncomfortable…yes I know. A lot of things have changed since I was last part of civilization,” Finn fiddles with the ring on his middle finger and it reminds me of the anxious tic I do quite often. 

“We could’ve met somewhere else. I know that being in big crowds like this unsettles me too,” I smile softly at him. 

Finn eyes a group of passersby wearily but still shakes his head, “No…I’m alright. If I’m going to be a part of this world I’ve got to learn to live with these things.”

I nod, “Okay. So, why exactly did you have Rebekah call me to meet you here?” Finn turns his attention away from a drunk woman who seems to be having the time of her life, “You said you’d help me find my Rose.”

Oh…ya I did. 

I cringe slightly, “So here’s the thing Finn,” I’m about to tell Finn that there is no way in hell Bonnie would agree to bring another old ass vampire to Mystic Falls after what just went down, but as I look at the helpless expression on Finn’s face and the loneliness in his eyes, something in my breaks, “My witch is currently out of town for a family thing,” Finn’s shoulders sag and his face drops, “But, she said she’d be happy to help as soon as she gets back.”

Finn eyes me for a moment before a soft smile on his face appears, “I’ve waited 900 years for her…a little longer will be fine. Thank you for helping me, Y/n, I know you don’t have to but…”

“Finn we’re friends, that’s what friends do,” I say simply and Finn frowns. 

“Friends?”

The way he says the word aloud is as if he’s never heard it before.

“I mean you don’t have to be my friend, I was just-”

“I would like it,” Finn interrupts me, “It’s just that I’ve never really…had one before.”

His words bring back memories of me crying in my room, wondering why no one ever wanted to be around me and it makes me realize just how much me and this 1,000-year-old man have in common. 

“Well, I just got my first friend like 3 months ago, so I’m pretty new to this whole friend thing too.”

Finn frowns, “I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be friends with you.”

I shrug, “I’m peculiar, remember?”

Finn’s upper lip twitches, “That we are.”

—

“Wait… so Kim is the oldest?”

I groan at Finn’s words, “Finnias, no! We’ve been over this Kourtney is the oldest! Kim is the one dating Kanye.”

Finn nods thoughtfully, “And we don’t like Kanye?”

I shake my head, “No because he was mean to Taylor Swift.”

I watch as the wheels turn in Finn’s head as he continues to piece together all the information on pop culture I’ve given him in the past hour. 

“Alright, I think I’m understanding. Actually…remind me again who Hannah Montana is?”

“Well, don’t you two look comfy together!”

I roll my eyes as I turn to see Demon Salvawhore smirking down at Finnias and I.

“What do you want, Demon?”

“I thought his name was Damon,” Finn questions me with a confused look.

“It is, but I still haven’t seen him and Lucifer in the same place at once so I call him Demon.”

Finn nods but looks down at his hands with a confused look.

“I just saw you two here chatting it up so I thought I might come say hi.”

“Well, we’re kind of in the middle of something here. So feel free to take your leave,” I glare at him.

“It’s alright, Y/n,” Finn says and I turn to see him getting out of the booth, “I should probably get back to make sure my siblings are still alright. But…thank you, for today and helping me.”

I smile up at Finn, “Anytime, Finnieas. And I’ll talk to Klaus about buying you that phone so I can show you how to text.”

Finn nods his head, smiling, and then walks away.

My smile falls as I glance back to Demon.

“What do you want?” “Why are you avoiding me?”

I blink slowly at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damon gives me an “Are you serious” look.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Pukey. I’ve tried calling you all night last night and all this morning. Only to find you here with yet another original.”

I stand up and glare at him, “Finn is my friend.”

“Ya? Just like Elijah and Klaus are right?”

This bitch.

“I’m not doing this with you right now, Damon. Leave me alone.”

I turn and walk away but Damon’s hand grabs my upper arm.

“Y/n, stop.”

“Is there a problem here, Y/n?”

I turn to my right to find Rebekah at my side, glaring at Damon.

“No, Rebekah. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rebekah smiles at me but doesn’t move. 

Damon drops my arm but doesn’t leave, “Why are you mad at me?”

It’s my turn to give him an “Are you serious” look, “Really Damon?! You almost killed the Mikaelson yesterday, which almost killed me, and then you actually did kill Bonnie’s mom who is now turning into a vampire?!”

Damon rolls his eyes and I fight the urge to slap him.

“Bonnie’s mom needed to die,” He says simply and I glare at him.

“And why was that?”

Damon doesn’t blink, “Because it came down to you or her,” His voice comes out strong, “And I’d pretty much kill everyone in this town if it meant my best friend stayed alive.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, I’m going to cry.

“Oh…”

Damon tilts his head, annoyed,  “That’s all you have to say. Oh?”

The next thing I know I’m throwing my arms around him. 

Damon doesn’t move for a moment, but after a few seconds his arms wrap around me and he pats my head awkwardly, “Ya, okay, Pukey. Love you too.”

I let go of Damon and fight back tears in my eyes. Damon rolls his eyes and fies his jacket trying to act tough. 

“You’re too emotional,” He says nonchalantly.

I punch him in the arm, “You just called me your best friend. Not takebacks, Demon.”

Damon rolls his eyes dramatically, “Ya whatever, Pukey.”

He reaches out a hand and messes up my hair before turning around and walking away, not before I spot the small smile on his face.

“You guys are odd.”

Rebekah’s British accent makes me remember she’s standing beside me. 

“Ya, kind of.”

Rebekah rolls her blue eyes and a wave of jealousy flows through me. How is it that someone can be this pretty?! 

“So…Elijah didn’t come back until early this morning,” Rebekah’s lips morph into a smirk, “Do you know anything about that?”

I feel my face heat up, “Um…nope.”

Rebekah raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure? Because the smile that was plastered on his face all this morning says otherwise.”

I furrow my brows, “What does him smiling have to do with me?”

Rebekah gives me an “Are you serious” look, guess it’s common today, “Maybe because the only time my older brother smiles is when he’s around you…And he was really smiling this morning.” 

At her tone I freeze, “Wait…do you think that we…” I move my hands around, “Y’know…”

Rebekah raises an eyebrow at me, “Well, didn’t you?”

I shake my head viciously, “No! All we did was kiss and then he watched Coraline with me until I went to sleep!”

Rebekah’s face falls, “Seriously? You’ve got my older brother all giddy after one kiss.”

I shrug, “I doubt he was “giddy”.

Rebekah nods her head, “Oh trust me, he was practically singing when he was making his morning coffee. 

I snort out a laugh at her words and try to imagine Elijah singing. 

“I like seeing him that way…happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of my siblings like that.”

At her solemn voice, I frown, “How are you doing? After everything…”

Rebekah shrugs, “I’m fine. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be.”

Her dismissal has me frowning deeper, “Bekah, you’re mother died. I know that she tried to kill you but it doesn’t change the fact that she was still your mother.”

Rebekah looks at me but her face doesn’t betray how she’s really feeling, “I’m fine, Y/n. Finn was the mummy’s boy. I don’t give a damn about that woman.”

I nod but still don’t believe her, “Well if you ever do need to talk to someone. You can always call me.”

Rebekah eyes me for a moment skeptically, then nods, “I won’t need to but…thanks. I guess,” Her attention strays for a moment, “There is someone I need to go talk to. Goodbye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Rebekah.”

—

I pull into my driveway but feel a frown come over my face as I notice an unfamiliar expensive-looking black car in my usual parking spot.

I park beside it and hurry into the house, worrying about Theo.

“Theo! Are you okay-”

“So, both of you have your bananas, and these right here are condoms,” I turn the corner and my jaw drops as I see Theo holding up a banana and a Trojan condom. An unfamiliar sound comes out of my mouth when I look at the two figures sitting on the couch before him with bananas in their hands and annoyed looks on their faces. Klaus and Elijah. 

“Theo what the hell are you doing?!?”

My yell of utter horror catches the three men’s attention.

“Oh, goody! Sister, I’m glad you’re here,” Theo drops his banana on the coffee table before Klaus and Elijah, a table that is covered in condoms and STD pamphlets, “After our little talk this morning I got to thinking and decided that if you and I aren’t going to talk about the elephants in the room, I’d just call up your boyfriends and have that chat with them myself.”

I stare wide-eyed at Elijah and Klaus, “And you both agreed to this?!?”

Elijah releases a deep sigh and Klaus glares at my little brother, “Your infant here called us and said we had to get over here because you were in danger.”

Theo raises his hands, “YES! In danger of catching a vampire STD.”

“Theo! Those don’t exist,” I screech at him.

“That’s exactly what we’ve tried to explain to him for the past 30 minutes, Elskan. For some reason, it isn’t sticking,” Elijah raises his head and shoots a dirty look at my brother. 

“Thirty minutes!? You’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes letting my 16-year-old brother have the sex talk with you!?”

“Well, 15 of those minutes were filled with threats,” Klaus mutters.

I glare at him, “I thought I told you to stop threatening my brother.”

Klaus turns his glare onto me and raises his hands in exhaustion, “The threats were from him, Love! And they were quite imaginative.”

“Thank you, I’ve been working on them for a while now,” Theo smirks at Klaus, and the hybrid growls at him. 

“Niklaus, please,” Elijah sighs.

Theo turns his attention back onto me, “Well now that you’re here,” He drags me over to a chair and pushes me down into, “I can finally give you the talk.”

“What talk,” Elijah asks confused.

Theo looks at him like he’s stupid, “The sex talk, dumbass. Since you,” He points to Elijah, “Like to spend the night in my sister’s bed without asking me permission. And you,” He points to Klaus, “Like to slobber all over her like the dog you are. I thought it would be a good idea to have this discussion before things move further. Now gentleman pick your bananas back up.”

“Theo! NO!”

Theo ignores me and smiles at Klaus and Elijah, who haven’t moved.

“One more dog joke out of you, Theodora and I swear I’ll-”

“Niklaus!”

Elijah and Klaus eye each other and Theo just stands there tapping his shoe on the hardwood floor. 

“Theo go to your room, right now,” I stand up and glare at him, “We are not having this discussion right now…or ever!”

“But the vampire STDS!”

“Theodore there are no such things as vampire STDS! GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

My yelling has all three men looking at me wearily. 

Theo raises his hands in surrender, “Ok, fine. Just trying to help.”

“And leave the condom here!”

Theo halts and turns back to the table and Klaus, Elijah, and I watch as Theo empties maybe 30 condoms from his jeans. 

“Bloody hell,” Klaus mutters.

I glare at Theo as he skips out of the living room and down the hall to his room. As soon as I hear his door close I run a hand over my face.

“Elskan-”

I raise a hand stopping Elijah before he can continue. 

“Nope. Whatever you’re going to say…just nope.” 

“Well, I’m never going to look at a banana the same way,” Klaus’ says sarcastically and I’m silent for a moment before a loud laugh escapes my mouth.  

I move my hands from my face and find Klaus smirking at me, and Elijah smiling softly at me with a bright look in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you both just leave,” I asked incredulously, “You two are the strongest and oldest creatures alive, and yet you stayed to have a teenage boy teach you how condoms work?!”

Klaus and Elijah side-eye each other. 

Elijah stands from his seat and fixes his suit jacket, “When we heard that you were in danger we hurried over here as fast as we could…but when we came inside and found this,” He gestures to the table of condoms and bananas, “We were going to leave.”

“And then Theodora locked the door behind us and told us that if we didn’t sit down and shut up he’d never give us his approval. And then said that we can bet our asses that if we don’t have his approval, you’d never speak to us again. I of course told him to go to hell but my brother here sat down like the good boy he is,” Klaus says and rolls his eyes.

“And yet you’re still here,” Elijah mutters. 

“So let me get this straight,” I look to both of them, “You endured Theo’s company for 30 minutes, just because you want his approval?!”

“If his approval means you accepting us…then of course we did.”

Klaus mutters something about Theo and daggers, but I ignore him. 

“You really care that much?”

Klaus and Elijah both give me “Are you serious” looks. 

“Love, I thought we made our thoughts about you quite known,” Klaus says as he stands, “We want you. Even if that means you come with a less than exceptional little brother as baggage.”

I snort at Klaus’ words and Elijah walks across the table and over to me, “There is nothing in this world I desire more than your company and happiness, Y/n. Please believe me when I say that.”

I feel my face heat up at the attention of the two men and I nod.

“I believe you.”

“Great,” Klaus says then pauses, “Also…I was just wondering what exactly was discussed by you and Theodora to warrant all of this,” He gestures to the table with a smirk. 

Oh fuck.

[moonstruckme]

can i request a reader who can’t admit she’s upset with one the marauders (or all)? like refuses to cry…only if you’re comfortable of course. thank you :)

Thank you for requesting gorgeous!

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

The smell of smoke coming from the kitchen is the first sign that Sirius has tipped over from resentment into remorse. 

“Jesus,” you open the front door on your way into the kitchen, eyes watering, “what are you doing?” 

“I was trying to make rice,” he says, fanning desperately over your pressure cooker, “but I think I’ve fucked it.” 

“Do you think so?” Any other day you’d both grin at the harmless snark, but now Sirius’ expression pinches and you think your own must look the same, your tone more biting than you meant for it to be. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine once it airs out. Help me with the windows?” 

Sirius acts like it’s a competition, opening three windows before you’ve finished two and looking at you like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. You try to give him a smile, and his expression clouds over. 

“Sorry,” he says, voice not quite cool but oddly remote, “the idea was to surprise you with dinner, and I’ve broken your rice thingy instead.” 

“It’s not broken,” you reassure him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine once I clean it out. Why were you trying to make dinner?” 

Sirius grimaces. It’s a full body motion, his eyebrows hooking in the middle while the muscles in his forearms shift uncomfortably and his shoulders migrate upward. “Sort of a shitty attempt at an olive branch, I guess.” 

Some of the smoke has cleared, and you brave the kitchen. “I don’t need an olive branch,” you say. “If you say we’re good, we’re good.” 

“Don’t do that.” He follows you into the kitchen. “I can tell you’re upset, just because—” Sirius hisses when you take the bowl out of the pressure cooker, transferring it swiftly to the sink “—fuck, baby, don’t burn yourself. Let me take care of that later.” 

“I’d rather handle it now,” you say, turning on the faucet. “I’m just letting it soak anyway.” 

“I’m trying to handle this.” Sturdy hands wrap around your shoulders, turning you to face your boyfriend. He looks at you steadily. “Don’t pretend you’re not angry with me, because I know that you are.” 

A spark of annoyance tingles up your spine as you shrug, reaching behind you to turn off the faucet. “I’m not.” 

“Can you stop trying to make me feel like an idiot? I know you. You’ve been all stiff since last night.” 

“You were angry last night. Not me.” 

“Yeah, well it seems to have caught on.” 

You turn away from him and back towards the sink, swishing your hand in the cold water of the bowl to dislodge the charred rice sticking to the bottom. You don’t know where Sirius gets off, acting like you’re holding a grudge when he’s the one who shouted at you last night. Your phone had died while you were out with friends. That was all that had happened. You didn’t think anything of it, because Sirius, the only person who would really worry about not being able to reach you, knew you were out and that you’d be home late. 

But when you had gotten home, he’d been furious. Gone on and on about how he’d been trying to get a response from you all night, and how dangerous it was to get drunk when you couldn’t call anyone (nevermind that you’d been with your friends), and how freaked out he’d been. He wouldn’t listen to you. He’d only wanted to yell and rage, and make you sit in your heels on the couch while he did it. He’d even seemed like he might be tearing up a couple of times. And you hated to think of him being scared for you, but since when was it your responsibility to answer every time he called? He knew you were with your friends. You hadn’t asked him to check in on you. 

He’d gone to bed still fuming and you’d stayed on the couch rather than try to sleep in a hostile bed. Now, inexplicably, his tune seems to have changed. 

“So,” Sirius sighs, “this is you not mad, huh?” 

“Yup.” You scrub at the bowl with your fingernails. 

“I just want a chance to apologize.” 

“You can if it’ll make you feel better, but I don’t need it.” 

“Why can’t you just admit it?” 

“Because I’m not the one who gets pissy about stupid things.” You dislodge a chunk of rice and your hand slips across the bowl, splashing water onto your shirt. “That’s you.” 

There’s a second of dense, oppressive silence. When Sirius breaches it, you can hear the smirk in his voice. “There’s my girl. Tell me about the stupid things I got pissy about, would you?”

“It’s nothing.” 

“No, it’s not. It wasn’t nothing to me, and clearly it wasn’t to you either. Go on, doll.” 

“I don’t want to argue with you.” 

“Sure you do.” 

“Why do you want to fight so bad?” 

“Because,” Sirius says, and you can hear him moving behind you, can all but see him leaning against the counter, the picture of insouciance, “I think you need to get it out of your system.” 

You scrub harder at the bowl. Blackened bits of rice float to the top of the water. “Like you do?” 

A pause. His voice softens. “It’s not always a good thing. I shouldn’t have shouted at you, last night.” Something in your chest tightens painfully at this new gentle tone. “I’m sorry. I let my temper get the better of me. I was just worried about you.” 

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” you say, managing to sound mostly normal. You dump out the contents of the bowl, filling it again with warmer water. “My phone was dead, and I was with my friends. I didn’t need you to worry about me.” 

“I just do, when I know you’ve all been drinking, and I can’t talk to you to know you’re okay…” Sirius takes in a breath, breaking your heart with how it sounds like he’s trying to steady himself. “But you’re right, okay? It wasn’t fair.” 

“I didn’t know I was coming home to be shouted at.” This time, your voice betrays you, a pitchiness that makes you go quiet fast. You hear Sirius move. 

“Sweetheart?” he asks softly. There’s a touch at your elbow. “I’m sorry, baby, please look at me.” 

You don’t want to, but you don’t want your embarrassment interpreted as ire. You take a quiet breath before pivoting from the sink. Sirius’ eyes are waiting, sad and fretful as they probe at yours. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, impossibly quieter, and runs his fingers from your elbow up the back of your arm. “It wasn’t your fault, I wasn’t being fair. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.” 

You press your lips together, hard. His eyebrows hook up in the middle. 

“You can cry, sweet thing. It’s okay.” You shake your head mutely, blinking, and Sirius makes a terribly lovely cooing sound, snaking an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You hug him back as the first hot tear rolls down your cheek. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Your shoulders jump with a stilted, poorly repressed sob, his grip on you tightening. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. My temper tantrum really did a number on you, huh?” 

You laugh wetly. “Guess so,” you squeak. “Sorry.” 

“If you apologize for this, I may shout at you again,” he warns fondly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, lovely girl. Just let it out, if you need to.” 

You know that’s not easy for Sirius to say. Know he’s likely close to tears himself, from how agitated seeing other people cry makes him. You appreciate the offer. 

You fall into a silence less heavy than any that’s suffocated your home since last night, broken up only by the steady, quiet thumping of Sirius patting your back and the intermittent smooching sounds as he kisses your shoulder or your cheek or the side of your neck. You stand still in your smoky kitchen, wetting your boyfriend’s shoulder with tears and snot, and he lets you.

[sunnie-angel]

week 2 (oct. 11) | overstimulation

✮⋆˙ lay all your love on me (3k)

jason needs to come. a lot. what's a good partner supposed to do but give him a helping orgasm? or two? or three?

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, groping, dirty talk, cum play, slight objectification, hand job, begging, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: working title was "jerking him off until he cries". @sanguineterrain at last the handjob fic i promised you

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd enjoys being the little spoon. It takes a weight off of his shoulders to curl up into you, have your chin hooked over his shoulder, and just trustingly melt. He’d been a little hesitant the first time you’d suggested it, sure that because of his size this wasn’t wanted from him. But after that first afternoon he’d leaned in a little more eagerly each time. Looked at you real sweet as he’d hemmed and hawed his way around asking if you two could cuddle again. Innocent, hoping for nothing more than a little light making out. Really, knowing how insatiable your appetite for him has been since the first time you’d kissed, he should have known that the two of you would end up here eventually.

It had started off innocently enough, the two of you spooning on the L-section of the couch he had insisted on buying when you had moved in together. Jason sits comfortably in the v of your legs with your arms wrapped around his stomach, warm and drowsy, some cooking show playing on the TV screen. He’d worn those grey sweatpants, the pair that you have a love-hate relationship with because of just how good they make his ass and thighs look. You haven’t been able to tear your eyes away from the faint outline of his cock through the cotton fabric. If asked, you probably couldn’t even name the show you’re supposed to be watching. He shifts, pulling the fabric tight against his cock. Saliva starts to pool in your mouth.

“Hey d’you mind if I try something?” you ask distractedly, focus narrowing to the crotch of his pants.

“What– OH,” he bites out as your hand closes around his dick, hips twitching and tone breathy.

“Go back to watching your show,” you shush him. “I just want to play a bit. You don’t mind, do you?” you ask. The fabric between your hand and his cock feels super-heated.

“I don’t– I don’t mind,” he manages to grit out. 

“Good.”

You move your hand along his shaft, gently squeezing, just trying to map out the shape of him now that you’re in no hurry. He’s a big boy, your Jason, proportional in all the right places. Trapping his dick against his leg, you stroke down, fabric bunching up beneath your palm. Jason’s breath stutters. Not wanting this to be over too quickly, you let him go. His hips twitch, chasing after your touch.

Instead you reach further down and cradle his balls in the palm of your hand. Roll them just to hear him moan quietly in your ear. If you had to guess, they feel heavier than usual, straining against the stretched grey fabric.

“Someone’s feeling a little pent up. Need a hand with that?” It’s some of your worst wordplay but it has the intended result.

“Might be,” he hedges.

Your other hand trails up to his pec and squeezes. His body is a lot more direct about what it wants, cock already fattening up in his pants.

“Getting fucked silly last night not enough for you, doll?” you pretend to pout.

“I cum a lot,” Jason confesses sheepishly, shame colouring his tone.

“Oh I know.” Fondly you think back to late nights in bed, Jason’s cum running down the inside of your thighs.

“I just mean that I hafta come a lot.” He tucks his chin into his chest. “Starts to get uncomfortable if I don’t at least twice a day. Hurts if I’m wearing the cup for patrol.”

You reward him for his honesty with another sharp drag at his twitching dick. On the television a contestant gets eliminated.

“So my big boy’s got a big load. Just more to fuck me full with,” you tell him smugly. He tries to thrust up into your hand, but you pull back, tutting. “Hey, you ever try and see just how much you can come?” You trace his chest through his shirt idly while he tries to piece together an answer.

“No?” his voice rises, tremors running through it as you dig your nail into his nipple. A damp spot starts to appear through his sweats, right where his purposefully neglected cock head sits. “It’s embarrassing enough I gotta jerk off a coupla times a day. Don’t wanna think about it too hard.”

“Yeah? Do you think of me every time you sneak off to have a furtive session in the bathroom?” you ask, half teasing half serious. Your hand closes around his shaft again. “When your balls tighten and your cock kicks in your hand, do you picture me?”

“Ye–ah,” he moans out, chest heaving. You press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw and flick at his nipple just to feel his breath catch.

“Good. Then I’m going to give you something real good to picture tomorrow, and you’re going to show me just how badly you need this. Don’t want my baby doll hurtin’ ‘cause he didn’t take the time to take care of himself.”

He nods, jaw clenching, as you finally thumb over his slit. Dig in to the growing damp patch with the pad of your thumb until fine tremors run up and down his spine. You let go just as he works up the nerve to try and thrust into the pressure.

Tapping at his hip, you urge him “Up, up. I want these off.”

With hands that feel dreadfully clumsy for their size, Jason manages to push his sweats and boxers down just far enough to free his dick from its confines. He almost dies from embarrassment over the way it nearly smacks against his stomach, practically drooling pre-come. On the TV, a new lightning round commences.

“Always so wet for me,” you murmur, slicking your hand with his pre. “I don’t think I even need lube for you, doll.”

The first pass of your hot hand over his bare skin is electrifying and Jason knows his first (of many, he hopes) orgasm isn’t far off. You set a fast pace, an extra twist of your wrist right below the head that has his stomach swooping. It’s white hot pressure, wet and good as you murmur soft praise into his ear. His hips start moving unconsciously, prolonging the drag of your palm on his cock. He moans when you tighten and release your grip intermittently, caught off guard by the sudden change in pressure. Flickering heat builds at the base of his spine, so strong he can taste it like iron on his tongue. Clever fingers pinch his nipples and he careens into orgasm eyes shut, teeth closing around his earlobe.

His cock twitches in your hand as he comes, spurts landing on his clothed chest and tummy. After an eternity stretches out, it slows to a dribble, thick white globs catching on your knuckles as you continue to stroke him through it. Letting go of his now sensitive dick, you drag your hand across his stomach, causing it to twitch, collecting the cum in your palm.

You hold up your hand for his inspection, rotate it back and forth to show him just how wet your hand has become. Embarrassment burns through Jason at the sight, lights up his cheeks and tightens his chest, the image of his copious desperation shining in the lamplight seared into his brain. Cum pools in the webbing of your fingers and starts to roll down your wrist in hot drips.

“Didn’t mean to make a mess,” he says, stomach still spasming and hips still twitching.

“No?” You press warm wet kisses along his jaw. “Then we’ll just have to keep going until you do mean to.”

The first tug at his cock is electrifying, back bowing tight as a string, his head dropping back onto your shoulder. You mouth at the warmed skin of his throat, adding just a hint of teeth as you trace the veiny underside of his dick with a slick finger.

“C’mon doll, I know you’ve got it in you to make a much bigger mess,” you croon, reaching down to tug and squeeze at his balls until he’s moaning like a whore for you. “Want you to give it all to me.” He starts grinding into the air in desperation.

“Please, can I– wanna fuck your fist. Please?” he whines. “Wanna come for your hand.”

You give a slow, leisurely stroke of his cock that has his shoulders shaking, before pulling off completely, hand still clenched in a loose fist.

“You’re so polite.” You press a kiss to his temple, hook your chin over his shoulder for a better view. “Now c’mon, good boys get to take what they want.”

His hips surge forward, every taut muscle in his body working to piston his dick in and out of your fist. It’s a heady feeling, watching him flex and strain under your hands, sweat beading on his forehead. Jason whines when you make him work for it, holding your hand a little further away so his hips have to arch just that much higher. He’s more flexible than you thought, a fact you file away for later. You tighten your grip and pull your hand closer, force Jason to change his pace to something jackrabbit fast, punched out little uh, uh, uhs falling from his mouth. With every stroke he’s slicking his cock up with his own cum, all shiny and wet.

“Look at you, all covered in cum for me. Your dick’s so pretty like this, puttin’ on a show,” you murmur.

“Jus’ f’r you. S’all yours,” he slurs, brain melting out of his ears.

“Yeah?” You press your thumb into the slit of his cock head. “So that means this cock is mine, right?” Jason nods frantically, keeps trying to fuck his whole length through the vice-like clutch of your hand but you’re not done playing yet. You grab his balls with your other hand. “All of this cum belongs to me?”

“Yours, all yours,” he gasps, so far gone he barely remembers his own name.

“That’s right doll,” you coo. Dig your fingers into the sensitive spot just under the head. “It’s my dick and my cum. Mine.” Heat burns through Jason’s veins, hums with the desire-shame thrumming through him and pools in the pit of his belly. “I fuck myself with my cock whenever I want and I get my cum whenever I want. And right now I want all of it.”

“Yeah wanna– wanna give it to you. Please. Need ta come. Need it. Need it need it,” he whines through gritted teeth, tendons pulling tight in his neck. His hands scrabble for something – anything to anchor him – and close around your thighs.

“Be a good doll and come then,” you instruct him, voice heavy with your own lust.

You start jerking him off in earnest, palm wrapped tight around the fat girth of his cock. He keens, body seizing up. A wet hand trails up to pinch at the tight bud of his nipple, leaving damp cum stains across the front of his shirt. Jason comes with a throaty groan on a particularly wicked twist of your wrist, tries to tuck his face into your neck. Rapt, you watch the thick white fluid dribble down his cock, sticky between your knuckles. With a steady hand you stroke him through his orgasm, more interested in the way his dick glistens than the pleasure-pain overstimulation he’s riding.

Cum pools at the base of his dick. Forms a frothy ring of creamy white from where your hand has churned it up, clings to his pubes and gathers in the divot just below his hip bone. Its still warm when you dip a finger into it, use it to draw idle patterns over the skin of his lower stomach where his shirt has ridden up. His muscles twitch and jump under his skin as he lets out a high and reedy sound. Sweat clings to his temples. The hands clinging to your thighs tremble as you continue to tug at his cock.

Jason’s next orgasm rolls over him, builds so gently he doesn’t notice it growing over the harsh passes of your hand over his dick. Only a little cum dribbles out this time, pearls at the fat head of his dick before slowly trailing its way home to your hands. He mewls when you bite down gently on the meat of his shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, his head drops back to loll on you. Fine tremors rack his large frame as he limply clings to you, spent and vulnerable, raw with pleasure.

“Kiss, please,” Jason demands, fucked out and sweetly. Wetness dots the corners of his lashes as he gazes up at you, your pretty boy.

The kiss is almost chaste in comparison to everything that preceded it, closed mouth and sweet. He sighs into your mouth and melts into the cradle of your body. Shifts his hand to thread it through your fingers not currently rubbing cum into the heated skin of his cock. Jason’s mouth chases after yours, starved for tenderness. Pulling back, you lay your forehead on his and close your eyes. The two of you stay there, rough inhales evening out into something soft. Intimate.

“You were so good, baby. So good,” you murmur to him. Jason squirms a little at the praise. Or maybe at the way you slip a hand under his shirt at the same time. “Can you be good just a little longer? Want you to come again–” he whines, starts shaking his head, “–just once. Just one more, okay?” You dust kisses across the tip of his nose, the scrunched up space between his eyes. “You can do this, baby doll.”

“I can’t. I can’t,” he moans. His fingers clench and unclench around yours.

“Yes you can, I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You’re not doing this alone. Why don’t we just try, hmm?”

He looks up at you, hazy eyed and trusting. Jason’s curls are stuck to his damp forehead and there’s high spots of colour in his cheeks. His lips are shiny and swollen from where he’s bitten at them. Tongue darting out between his parted lips, the growing desire to be good, to give you what you’re asking of him, is nearly tangible in the air. What a sweet picture he makes, your doll. He looks like yours.

“Will you– will you kiss me through it? Don’t wanna get lost, don’t wanna be alone. Promise?”

“You can have as many kisses as you want,” you reassure him, squeeze his hand with your own. “You can have as many as you want after too.”

You kiss him and he melts. You kiss him and reshapes himself into the image you create for him. Hips twitching at every feather light touch to his cock, balls drawing up tighter and tighter with each breath. You swallow down every sigh and whimper, soak up the way his breath hitches as you neglect his cock to trail the pads of your fingers across the tense muscles of his stomach. How eager he is to open up to you, mouth parting for your entry. You flip his hand over so you can hold it properly, let him clutch it to his chest for comfort as finally you start teasing his dick again.

You work him over, running the flat of your hand against the length of it just to feel it struggle to get to full mast again. Jason cries out when you finally close a fist around the base of it. He settles down again with another soft kiss pressed to his open mouth. His hips start to roll with the slow, gentle pace you set, eyes closed. He gasps when you speed up the down stroke, still tortuously slow as you glide back toward the tip of his dick. Slowly the muscles of his thighs start to twitch, no longer relaxed as they begin to lock up. Something slow and cloying as tar builds at the base of his spine, tugging and clawing it’s way from the tips of his toes and the prickle of his scalp to settle low in his gut. He forgets to breath. 

Jason’s desperate, thrashing under your hold, trying to escape the drag of the blade across his nerves, pleasure spiking. He could break free, if that was really what he wanted. Instead he lets you draw things out, begs and pleads for more.

“S’too much. God. Don’t sto-p. Please.”

He feels strangely divorced from his body as he comes on an exhale, jaw slack and hips arching off the couch. One single spurt and then he’s coming dry. The force of it burns through him, toes curling, heart shaking. He’s light headed, limbs so weak Jason doesn’t think they’d hold him. He pants, trying to force air into his lungs as his ears ring. His molars hurt the same way they do when he touches a live wire. He looks at you with stars in his eyes, white spots dancing across his vision.

“Oh you were so perfect, doll. Didn’t I say you had one more in you?” You nuzzle into his cheek before tenderly placing a kiss there. “And look at how much you came!” Dragging a finger through the puddle around his dick, you giggle. “You’re going to have such a good time jerking off to this tomorrow.”

He groans at that thought, already pained at the idea of orgasming again anytime soon. Still, he lifts your twined hands together to press kisses to your sticky knuckles.

“No more sexy talk, okay? You’re gonna kill me. Let me enjoy the afterglow a little before you start planning to pull my soul out of my dick again.”

“Okay, okay! Glad to know you enjoyed yourself too,” you laugh. “I’ll go get a towel to clean you up and we can restart the episode.”

“The wh– oh.” Jason darts a sheepish glance back at the TV where the credits are already rolling.