#or just need a moment of quiet contemplation
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rebelspykatie · 2 days ago
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Part 4 - Steddie Angst
Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4
The only problem is, Eddie doesn’t know how to fix it. Moments where Steve is alone are few and far between, unless he shows up at Steve’s house unannounced. He doesn’t think he’ll be welcome there, if Steve would even answer the door. Which is fair, he wouldn’t talk to himself either if their roles were reversed. 
If this skin crawling, stomach turning, palms sweating feeling is how love eats away at your insides, Eddie’s glad he spent the first twenty years of his life devoid of it. How do people live like this? He’s never really been a chick flick kind of guy, but he suddenly understands the plight of the main character that figures it out too late. The idiot that has to stand outside with a boombox and declare his love loudly because he made a mistake. 
His chance comes as a happy accident. A New Years Eve party, one with everyone that survived the Upside Down that he reluctantly agreed to come to, and only because Dustin wouldn’t leave him alone until he showed up. Most of the night, Steve keeps that healthy distance from him, not altogether avoiding him, but never allowing himself to be caught at the punch bowl alone. 
Steve’s walking around with Eddie’s heart in his hands, even if he doesn’t know it. His skin prickles with awareness when Steve’s near. Everyone has to know that something happened. They used to be inseparable, one mass on a couch, barely able to see where the other ended and began. Now? It’s like they’re two poles of a magnet, an invisible force pushing them to opposite sides of the room, circling each other in a twisted dance. 
At some point, he loses sight of Steve, and he gets drawn into a conversation about music with Lucas and Jonathan. He’s on just the right side of loose, nursing a second beer and desperately in need of some fresh air, when people start to get antsy as midnight approaches. 
He steps outside the cabin and the cold air melts away his anxiety. He closes his eyes, soaking up the outdoorsy stillness of the night, the only sound the quiet rustle of creatures in the forest’s depths, the echo of distant fireworks, and the ragged breath he inhales. He’s never really gotten accustomed to the packed house that happens when they’re all together, after so many years of just him and Wayne. 
He jumps nearly a foot in the air when he hears Steve say, “Hey.” 
When he turns towards the sound, he sees the silhouette of Steve with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He’s curled up on the bench that sits directly below the window, backlit by the dull yellow light shining through the curtains, keeping most of his face hidden until Eddie’s eyes adjust to the dark. 
“I didn’t think anyone was out here,” Eddie says, cautiously inching forward, not sure if he’ll spook Steve. 
“It was getting a little overcrowded,” Steve shrugs, the blanket falling off one shoulder, but making no move otherwise. He looks so young like this, and they are young, Eddie knows that. But he also feels ancient after everything they’ve been through. He’s lived too much life for a twenty year old. 
It’s a stark reminder that there’s no time to waste. This could be his one opportunity. A gift handed to him from the universe to start the year on a better foot. If Steve can forgive him and listen. Which is more than Eddie deserves. 
Eddie slinks over and drops down into the empty space beside Steve, making sure to leave enough space between them, giving Steve an out. He doesn’t move. It’s foolish for that to give him hope, but it does. Steve’s admitted to being overwhelmed as much as Eddie was inside, but he’s not bolting for woods or yelling for Robin. There’s not even a fake smile plastered on his face. Just this quiet, contemplative look as he casts his gaze into the darkness beyond the cabin. 
“S-steve,” Eddie starts. He clears his throat and tries again, “Steve, I was wrong.” 
It takes a moment for Steve to turn his attention to Eddie, a sharp beat of time where he braces himself, swallowing thickly and shoulders hunching, before their gazes meet. An eternity must have gone by since the last time they made eye contact. Eddie isn’t prepared for the butterflies that take root in his stomach. The way it’s all clicked into place that Steve’s presence in his life is and always has been different. 
“About what?” He asks quietly.
“Everything,” Eddie turns his whole body towards Steve. “For most of my life, I’ve never thought about anyone romantically. I didn’t have crushes, or flirtations, or summer flings. None of that mattered to me. Figured I’d leave Hawkins one day, find some chick to settle down with, and have kids like everyone else. Do what was expected of me. Or at least that I would end up an old man living alone in my trailer, like Wayne.” 
“Wayne’s not alone, he has you.” 
“Not by choice, though.” Eddie laughs wryly. “Doesn’t matter. I just had this idea in my head of what that would look like, but I never stopped to think about whether that was what I even wanted. It never occurred to me that maybe I was missing out on what everyone else was going through in high school, all the dates and prom nights.”
“Are you saying you’ve never had a crush on anyone?” Steve asks, disbelief in his tone. He pulls the blanket back up over his shoulder. 
“Not for twenty years of my life. Not a single one.” He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Until now.” 
“Eddie, I’m not-” Steve moves like he’s going to stand up, but Eddie reaches out and stops him with one hand on his arm over the blanket. 
“Steve, please just let me explain.”
TBC - one more part
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aventurineswife · 1 day ago
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Since a certain someone ahem @sundaysconsort ahem, made me sad... You guys shall suffer with me 🫶💙
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The dim glow of the Astral Express cast soft shadows on the walls, the gentle hum of its engines the only sound breaking the silence. You sat near the windows, gazing out at the stars that blurred into streaks of light, each one carrying the memory of a distant world.
Sunday stood at the other end of the room, his ethereal figure framed by the soft glow of the halo behind him. His wings flickered slightly, betraying the turbulence within, but his face remained composed, as it always did—distant, yet not unkind.
He hadn’t said much since you’d boarded the train together. His usual perceptiveness was there, but today, it felt like he was watching you more than speaking to you. It made the air feel thick with unspoken words, and you found yourself longing for him to speak, to break the silence.
“Are you… alright?” you asked quietly, breaking the stillness.
Sunday turned, his eyes soft, distant. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else—something more guarded, as he often did. But instead, he took a few slow steps toward you, his back wings folding gently at his back.
He gazed at you for a long time, and for the first time, you saw the subtle weariness behind his eyes. It wasn’t the guilt or the burden of his past, but something more intimate—like a longing, a quiet, almost imperceptible need.
“What happens when we let our hearts heal,” he murmured, almost to himself, as his voice barely rose above the hum of the train. “When we let our souls breathe?”
You tilted your head, unsure whether he was speaking to you or to some deeper part of himself. There was a sadness there, like he had been contemplating it for far too long, but never quite finding the answer.
His gaze met yours, and it was like he was searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or even a hint of the answer. There was a moment of stillness, and then he stepped closer, his presence drawing you in, though there was no physical force behind it. Just the pull of his quiet, vulnerable self.
“It’s… difficult,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To imagine a world where wounds don’t define us. To believe that we might find peace, when everything around us tells us that it’s out of reach.”
Your heart tightened, unsure of how to respond. You could see the conflict in him—the same conflict that had always been there, hidden beneath his calm demeanor.
His wings shifted, an almost imperceptible flutter, as he looked away for a moment, clearly struggling with his own thoughts. "I have spent my life trying to save others from pain, from suffering. Yet, in doing so, I’ve never once allowed myself the same kindness.”
You could feel the weight of those words, heavy with the years of internal battles he had fought, the ideals he had tried to uphold, only to face the harsh reality that even the most noble of dreams could come at a cost.
His voice, soft and distant again, slipped out. “What happens when we stop hiding from ourselves? When we let go of all the ways we’ve been conditioned to believe we must be?”
A silence hung in the air, filled with the tension between his idealism and the reality of his struggles. His eyes met yours once more, this time not with the distance you were used to, but with an openness that felt as if he were letting you see the parts of him he so carefully shielded from the world.
“Would you stay with me?” he asked, the question raw, vulnerable in a way that felt foreign to him.
It was a question laden with all the fears he never let himself speak of—the fear of loss, of failure, of not being enough. But there was also something else, something quieter. Hope.
In that moment, as you looked at him, you realized that perhaps he had never truly asked for help, never truly let anyone in. But now, in the delicate balance between his ideals and his heart, he was opening up to the possibility of healing. A possibility that, for the first time, seemed just within reach.
“What happens when we let our hearts heal, when we let our souls breathe?” he repeated, his voice fragile, as though the answer rested between the two of you.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question settle into your chest. With a quiet resolve, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “I think we learn how to live again,” you whispered.
And for the first time in a long time, you saw the faintest flicker of hope in his eyes.
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ell6ied · 2 days ago
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heartbreak summer ꨄ︎
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pairing: sae itoshi x f!reader
summary: after your friend finds out her recent ex has been in the news tabloids with yet another girl, your idea of get back turns your night into an unfortunate series of events with the outcome landing you directly in front of re al’s star player, and you’re about to kiss him.
cw: nsfw elements, swearing, toxic relationships & behaviour (not too much from sae surprisingly), angst
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chapter 02: blackout
you have no idea how it happened. for a moment you was searching for kaia, who had mysteriously disappeared after oliver aiku spotted her in the club, dragging her away. and the next moment, your hands were in some man’s hair, was it auburn? brunette? your face itching closer and closer to his as he held the side of your face with one hand, and the other on your hip, dangerously itching somewhere you know shouldn’t be.
god, your head was fuzzy.
you remember gripping onto his shirt a little, trying to balance yourself, the thought of drinking so much being a bad idea lingering in your head for a moment. you looked up at him, those eyes are gorgeous, this man is beautiful.
and just like that, your lips were on his, his hands a little firmer as he held you in place as he kissed you, noticing your lack of balance. you couldn’t help but tug his hair slightly as he ran his tongue on the bottom of you lip, causing him to let out a quiet, but deep breath, smirking down at you. he then pulled away for a second, catching the breath you just took from him as he rested his hand between the nape of your neck.
“do you want to come back to mine, amor?”, he speaks in a soft, velvety tone, his head tilted slightly.
you pause, frowning, “ew no..”, causing his brows to raise slightly and the corners of his mouth daring to twitch into a soft smile.
6:48 am
the feeling of your head throbbing and the scratchiness of your throat causes your eyes to squint while your brain finally registers the brightness coming through the blinds, “what the fuck..”
you move your arms, sitting yourself up slightly on your bed, looking around to see your still in the clothes from the night before, with the feeling of makeup still on your skin and wait, is that-
“what the fuck?!”, you half yell, seeing a shirtless man sleeping way too peacefully in your own bed.
“huh?”, he frowns, his eyes half open now, squinting to look at you, “oh, g’morning.”
morning?!?
“why are you in my bed..?”, you ask, confused.
“i came home with you.”, he says. bit creepy.
“we didn’t- did we?”, you ask in pure confusion again. your clothes were on, but here was some random shirtless man in your bed, you couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d be here.
“no, we just slept.”, he makes himself comfortable on your bed, looking at you as he answers.
“right… okay.”, you pause, trying to comprehend what even happened last night.
“well, if you just wanna… grab that.. and like, leave?”, you say, your eyes roaming your room before bending down and grabbing his shirt, throwing it at him.
he looks down as you throw his shift, looking back up at you, his eyes weirdly innocent, “oh you want me to go?”
obviously?, “um.. yes.”
he pauses for a moment, as if he was contemplating something, tilting his head at you, it was cute actually.
“why?”
you frown at him, baffled by his pure obliviousness or whether he was just being difficult.
“i don’t want you here anymore, i have roommates.”
“oh, okay.”, he says like he finally understands, “do you want my-“
you cut him off quickly, “no!”, you pause, “um.. no thanks, we don’t need to do that.”
“damn, okay.”, he says, finally putting his shirt back on, getting up from her bed and grabbing his phone.
“you know where the door is?”
“yeah, i know.”, he states, walking past you before giving you a final look, leaving your vision as you hear the front door open then close.
you sigh loudly, rubbing your forehead before walking over to the mirror of your vanity, looking at yourself, “oh yikes.”
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the next day
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navigation: heartbreak summer
next chapter: 03
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authors note: thank you sm for everyone reading 🫶🏻 i genuinely love writing this story & there’s abt to be sm dramaaa 🤭 sae is so awkward in this im giggling 😭
taglist: @vaelils @shironagi
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harmony-lightening · 1 year ago
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#Looking for a way to unwind and de-stress? Look no further than our collection of soothing piano melodies. From gentle ballads to soft#lilting rhythms#these pieces are designed to calm your mind and soothe your soul.#Unwind and find serenity with this beautiful collection of calming piano melodies. Let the gentle notes transport you to a place of peace#where stress and anxiety melt away. Perfect for unwinding after a long day#promoting relaxation before bedtime#or simply creating a moment of zen in your busy life. Our soothing piano music features flowing arpeggios#delicate chord progressions#and soulful melodies that will leave you feeling refreshed and revitalized. Whether you're seeking relief from stress#looking to improve your focus#or just need a moment of quiet contemplation#this calming piano music has got you covered. So sit back#close your eyes#and let the music do the rest.#Discover the healing power of music with our relaxing piano compositions. Scientific studies have shown that listening to soothing music c#reduce stress hormones#and boost the immune system. Treat yourself to a little bit of self-care today!#Escape the noise of everyday life and indulge in the soothing sounds of our calming piano music. From the gentle touch of the keys to the#each piece is designed to transport you to a place of deep relaxation and inner peace.#Prepare to be enveloped in a cocoon of calmness with our exquisite collection of relaxing piano songs. With their slow tempos#gentle dynamics#and soaring melodies#these pieces are guaranteed to melt away tension and promote profound relaxation.#“Need a break from the chaos of modern life? Take a few minutes to breathe deeply and let the calming sounds of our piano music wash over y#“Are you tired of feeling anxious and stressed out? Allow our relaxing piano music to be the balm you need to soothe your frayed nerves and#“Do you struggle with insomnia or difficulty falling asleep? Try listening to our calming piano music before bedtime to help lull you into#“Feeling overwhelmed by the demands of work and daily life? Take a step back and give yourself permission to pause with our relaxing piano#relaxing#anxiety#sleeping
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pinacoladamatata · 6 months ago
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blink and you'll miss it moments around skyhold....
#solavellan#solas#gotta put out some tender stuff to balance the chaos target team leader solas has caused.#look i just need to go feral in the tags for a moment#okay the fucking. what's he call himself? the great adversary of her people's mythology....falls in love w a woman being forced into a role#not unlike his own#i t makes me c r a z y#like at one point he's all ooooh we're elves need to make sure the humans trust us to ensure safety. gives them a castle......#then he's all ''ooh you cant change the way your legend is getting out of hand. might as well accept it''#but he disapproves if you lean into it/call yourself the herald.#he approves of you fighting against the status quo. encourages sera to sow chaos and has a VERY interesting convo w her about power#''what lop of the top?'' ''yes.'' ''well what's that do except make room for a new top to come and fuck it all up?''#at which point he fuckin STUTTERS and is like. oh fuck. you're right. my bad. and then he shuts up in quiet contemplation#he's clearly wrestling w himself. and Ohmygod the felassanstuff.#like the Guilt. the Regret.#haunting that fucking rotunda.#and yet he's so in love w lavellan if they go that route.#like clearly some stuff was missing/fumbled in game. but like#how he fuckin screams for the inquisitor at the well?????!?! OK BOI?!#im just. the dread wolf. great adversary of the dalish pantheon.#turns out to be some somber grim guy with a fatalistic sense of humor who hates tea and greatly values free will#pina art
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solxamber · 2 months ago
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And I Pick...
In which you choose the club that caught your eye
Part 1
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After much contemplation you've finally decided to pick the:
Basketball Club
The basketball court was quiet for all of two seconds after you announced your decision.
Then Ace exploded.
"HA! I knew you’d pick us! I called it!" He was practically doing laps around the court, pointing at nothing in particular. "Ace Trappola: the ultimate recruiter, the club MVP, and now the guy who brought you on board! This is the best day of my life!"
"Eh, it’s about time," Floyd drawled, stretching lazily. "Took ya long enough to figure out where the fun is." His sharp-toothed grin widened. "Now we can play my version of full-contact basketball. Hehehe."
"Absolutely not," Jamil cut in, but Floyd wasn’t listening.
"Don’t worry," Floyd said, throwing an arm around your shoulders like you’d been lifelong teammates. "If you survive the first practice, you’ll survive all the practices. Probably."
Ace jogged back over, breathless but triumphant. "I told you we’re the best club! No boring rules, no endless laps like in Deuce's lame track team, and best of all—" He struck a dramatic pose, arms wide. "You get to hang out with me every day!"
"Please don’t make them quit on the first week," Jamil muttered, giving you a look that seemed to say, Are you sure about this?
"Quit? Nahhh!" Ace grinned. "They’re gonna thrive here. I’ll even teach them my signature moves—like my no-look, backwards, mid-air layup."
"You can’t even do that," Jamil said flatly.
"Not yet," Ace shot back. "But it’s the thought that counts."
Floyd leaned in closer, his grin somehow growing wider. "You better keep up, shrimpy. Otherwise, I might have to… spice things up a little."
"Spice things up?" you echoed, immediately suspicious.
"He means doing things like replacing the basketballs with watermelons," Jamil deadpanned.
Ace snorted. "Or throwing the ball at the hoop so hard it breaks the backboard. Oh wait, that actually happened. Twice."
"It was fun," Floyd said, completely unrepentant.
Jamil sighed like a man who’d aged a decade in the last five minutes. But then, to your surprise, he turned to you and offered a small, genuine smile. "Still… I’m glad you’re here. Welcome to the team."
The words were simple, but coming from Jamil, they felt like a warm endorsement.
Ace clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move things along. "Alright, enough talking! Let’s get you on the court and see what you’ve got!"
"Or we could start slow," Jamil suggested, but Ace was already dragging you toward the center of the court, Floyd trailing behind with a basketball under one arm.
"Don’t worry," Floyd said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly. "If ya mess up, we’ll just laugh at ya a little. No big deal~."
"No one’s laughing at anyone," Jamil said firmly, already pinching the bridge of his nose.
Ace threw an arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. "Ignore him. We’re gonna have a blast! First practice starts now!"
You weren’t sure what you’d gotten yourself into, but judging by their enthusiasm (and Floyd’s maniacal laughter), you were in for one chaotic ride.
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Track and Field Club
The moment you declared your allegiance to the track and field club, Deuce’s face lit up like someone had just told him he passed his midterms.
“You’re… really joining?” he asked, like he needed double confirmation. When you nodded, his grin widened, the kind that made him look both relieved and excited. “That’s awesome! Uh—welcome to the team! Seriously, it’s great to have you.” His usual earnestness shone through, and he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m still kind of learning the ropes, but we can figure things out together. It’s gonna be great!”
Jack, standing beside him, gave a firm nod of approval. “Good call. Track and field’s a solid choice. You’ll fit right in.” His tail wagged just enough to betray how happy he was, even if his tone stayed calm.
"Yeah!" Deuce agreed. “And, uh, don’t worry about keeping up or anything. It’s all about improving at your own pace. Right, Jack?”
“Sure,” Jack replied, glancing at you. Then he added, almost casually, “We’ll work on your stamina. You’re gonna need it.”
It took you a second to catch the faint glint in his eye, and then you remembered—oh no, the fridge comment. Jack had been disturbed ever since.
Deuce, oblivious to the subtext, chimed in, “Yeah, Jack’s great at that stuff! He’s got this crazy endurance. Like, he can run forever. I’m still working on it, but, uh, you’re in good hands!”
Jack’s tail swished again. “Just be ready to push yourself. But don’t worry—we’ve got your back.”
“Exactly!” Deuce said, his fists clenching like he was ready to run a marathon right there. “This is gonna be awesome. I mean, not that it wasn’t already great, but now it’s even better. Right, Jack?”
Jack gave a small, satisfied smile. “Right.”
As they led you toward the field, you couldn’t help but wonder what you’d just signed up for. One thing was certain, though—Jack’s still thinking about that fridge, and he will make sure it’s not an issue anymore.
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Board Game Club
The moment you declared your allegiance to the board game club, Azul adjusted his glasses, looking smugly pleased with himself, like he'd just negotiated the deal of the century.
"An excellent decision," he said, his voice as smooth as the perfectly polished board games stacked behind him. "With your addition to our club, I foresee a new golden age of strategic victories."
Idia, sitting half-hidden behind a pile of unopened game boxes, choked on his energy drink. "W-Wait, you’re serious? They actually chose us?" His hair flared a brilliant shade of pink for a moment before he pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. "Th-this isn’t some prank, right? Like, I’m not gonna look up and see them bolting out the door laughing, right?"
"Nope," you replied with a grin. "I’m all in."
Ortho, ever the enthusiastic hype man, zipped into the room with his jet thrusters. "Welcome to the club! Now we have a full party for dungeon raids. This is amazing!"
Azul cleared his throat, waving a hand. "Ahem, while cooperative RPGs are certainly an option, I believe we should start with a game of strategy and wit to introduce them properly. Perhaps a round of Chess of Betrayal?"
Idia groaned, sinking further into his hoodie. "Ugh, that game takes, like, three hours. If you’re gonna scare them away, at least wait until they’re too deep in to quit. Why don’t we start with something easy, like Goblin King Gauntlet?"
Ortho clapped his hands. "Ooh, I love that one! It has a random trap mechanic! Let’s play that!"
Azul raised an eyebrow, his smile shark-like. "Trap mechanics are hardly a proper welcome. It would be far better to demonstrate the finer nuances of strategy, wouldn’t you agree?"
Idia muttered something about Azul turning everything into a power play, but you interrupted before they could spiral into a full-blown debate. "Honestly, I’m fine with anything. Just deal me in."
Azul’s smirk widened. "Very well, then. I shall prepare the game board. And don’t worry, I’ll make certain you’re fully equipped for our upcoming campaigns. You’ll find we offer more than just fun—we offer victory."
Idia peeked out from his hoodie, a small, hopeful smile creeping onto his face. "You’re not bad at this whole club thing. Maybe this won’t be so terrible."
As they started setting up the game, you felt an unexpected warmth. Sure, it was just a board game club, but there was something endearing about their chaotic enthusiasm.
Though one thing was clear—Azul would probably try to sell you game tokens at some point, and Idia would absolutely try to teach you how to min-max your dice rolls.
But hey, you were ready for it.
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Film Studies Club
When you announced your decision to join the film studies club, Vil paused mid-sip of his herbal tea, one elegantly arched eyebrow rising. For a moment, he looked like he was considering whether he had heard you correctly. Then, with a practiced air of nonchalance, he set the teacup down.
"Hm. Acceptable," he said coolly, though his tone betrayed a slight uptick of satisfaction. "It’s rare to find someone with enough taste to appreciate the art of cinema. I suppose your presence will be… useful."
But the slight curl of his lips gave him away.
He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and gave you an appraising look. "We have much to discuss. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to commit entirely—no half-measures, no excuses. The camera is unforgiving, and I have no intention of allowing this club to falter under subpar contributions."
You opened your mouth to respond, but he was already pacing, gesturing dramatically like the star of an avant-garde production. "Lighting, blocking, composition—they are all integral to creating art, not merely entertainment. I trust you won’t embarrass yourself, or me, for that matter."
Despite his words, you caught the faintest hint of pride in his gaze as he turned to face you fully. "And, if for some reason, acting isn’t your strength, there are other roles. Cinematography, set design, editing… Perhaps backstage work would suit you, should you fail the audition."
He didn’t say it to be harsh; this was Vil’s version of encouragement. And as he continued outlining the club’s vision—"a modern renaissance in storytelling"—you realized he was genuinely excited to have you there, even if he’d rather gargle poison than openly admit it.
Finally, he stopped and gave you a small, approving nod. "Welcome to the film studies club. Don’t make me regret this."
Translation: I’m glad you’re here.
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Science Club
The moment you announced your decision to join the science club, Rook’s eyes lit up like you’d just declared him the ruler of the universe.
"Ah, mon ami! What a magnifique choice!" he exclaimed, sweeping you into a theatrical bow so deep you thought he might topple over. "You possess the soul of an explorer, a true seeker of knowledge! Together, we shall unlock the mysteries of nature and celebrate its beauty in all its forms!"
"Uh… don’t scare them off, Rook," Trey interjected, though he was smiling. He adjusted his apron, clearly relieved that you hadn’t bolted under Rook’s enthusiastic greeting. "We’re glad to have you. Really. It’s nice to have someone else around who won’t accidentally set the lab on fire."
You raised an eyebrow. "That’s a low bar."
Trey shrugged. "You’d be surprised how many fail to meet it."
Before you could respond, Rook was already spinning grand plans. "Imagine the adventures we will have! Scaling mountains, crafting elixirs, nurturing delicate blossoms—ah, the poetry of science!" He clasped his hands to his chest, radiating so much joy that you were worried he’d break into song.
Trey, ever the grounded one, sighed fondly. "What he means is: we do a little bit of everything. Growing plants, chemistry experiments, cooking—you’ll fit right in. Assuming Rook doesn’t scare you off first."
Rook turned to Trey with an exaggerated gasp, as if the very suggestion of him being overwhelming was the greatest insult he’d ever received. "Chevalier des Roses, how could you wound me so?" He turned back to you with a theatrical flourish. "Fear not! I shall be your guide, your companion, your—"
"Assistant," Trey cut in, giving you a knowing look. "We'll assist you. Don’t let him take over your projects."
You grinned, feeling oddly at home already. Between Rook’s boundless enthusiasm and Trey’s steadying presence, you realized the science club might just be the perfect balance of chaos and calm.
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Pop Music Club
When you announced your decision to join the Pop Music Club, Lilia was the first to react. He shot up from his chair with a dramatic flourish, his cape—where did the cape come from?—billowing as if on cue.
"Ah, an excellent choice! Welcome to the most electrifying club in the entire school!" Lilia declared, his voice reverberating like an arena announcer. He played an imaginary riff on an air guitar, complete with sound effects that you were almost certain were magically amplified.
Kalim clapped his hands, beaming as brightly as the sun. "This is going to be so much fun! We can sing duets, make up dances, throw a party for every new song we write—oh! We should have a welcome party for you right now!" He was already halfway to grabbing balloons out of thin air before Cater stopped him.
"Easy there, Kalim," Cater said with a laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a picture. "We haven’t even started jamming yet! Gotta document this first—‘New Member Alert 🚨🎶! Welcome to the coolest club at NRC!’” He posed next to you, flipping through filters. "Ooh, should we do a pastel vibe or go all-out neon?"
"Why not both?" Lilia suggested, somehow holding a tambourine he hadn’t been holding two seconds ago. He shook it with gusto, the jingles creating an impromptu beat.
Kalim joined in instantly, dancing around the room with energy that could probably power a small city. "This is going to be amazing! Do you play any instruments? Can you sing? Or maybe you’ll write the songs? Wait, can you do all three?!"
Before you could answer, Lilia leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. "Don’t worry, even if you’re terrible, I can teach you. After all, I’ve had centuries of experience."
"Centuries of experience at what exactly?" you asked, though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted the answer.
"Everything," Lilia replied cryptically, shaking the tambourine once more for emphasis.
Cater gave you a wink. "Don’t let him intimidate you. He’s mostly harmless. Mostly."
As the chaos swirled around you, you realized joining the Pop Music Club was probably going to be as much about managing everyone’s energy as it was about making music.
But looking at their genuine excitement, you couldn’t help but feel you’d made the right choice. It was going to be loud, unpredictable, and—most importantly—a lot of fun.
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Equestrian Club
When you chose the Equestrian Club, Riddle’s reaction was immediate and deeply Riddle. He straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and gave you a small but dignified nod, though his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.
“A wise decision,” he said primly, but his voice wavered just enough to give away his excitement. “The Equestrian Club values discipline and care, and I trust you will uphold those values. Welcome.” He paused, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “I’m glad you chose us.”
Sebek, on the other hand, reacted with his usual intensity, which was to say, very loudly.
“AS EXPECTED OF SOMEONE WITH DISCERNING TASTE!” Sebek bellowed, saluting for no discernible reason. “THE EQUESTRIAN CLUB IS A PLACE OF HONOR AND DILIGENCE. YOU HAVE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, AND I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, SHALL PERSONALLY ENSURE YOU MEET OUR HIGH STANDARDS!”
“You’re going to scare the horses,” Silver muttered, patting a dozing mare who didn’t even flinch at Sebek’s volume. Clearly, she’d built up an immunity.
Silver turned to you with a sleepy but genuine smile. “Welcome. It’ll be nice having another person around who actually seems calm. I’ll show you the best places to ride, and we’ll make sure you’re comfortable with the horses.”
“And with the rules,” Riddle interjected, already retrieving a stack of laminated pages. “Equestrian care is not something to take lightly. You’ll need to memorize these guidelines to ensure both your safety and that of the horses.”
Sebek leaned over your shoulder to inspect the stack and immediately saluted again. “AN EXCELLENT INITIATIVE, HOUSEWARDEN ROSEHEARTS! I, TOO, WILL MEMORIZE THESE IN CASE THEY EVER REQUIRE REINFORCEMENT!”
“I think they’re fine,” Silver said. “We don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”
Riddle frowned. “Standards exist for a reason, Silver. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm, perhaps we can—Sebek, stop shouting—perhaps we can go over the basics first before overwhelming them.”
As Riddle and Sebek debated, Silver handed you a carrot to feed one of the horses. “Don’t worry,” he said, as the horse happily munched away. “It’s not as intense as it seems. Usually.”
You glanced at the stack of rules in Riddle’s hand and the fervent look in Sebek’s eyes. It was definitely going to be an adjustment. But seeing how genuinely happy they all were to have you—yes, even Sebek—you felt like this would be worth it.
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Magift Club
When you announced your decision to join the Magift Club as their manager, the reaction was instantaneous and… surprisingly chaotic.
Ruggie let out a whoop, immediately dropping to the floor in a mock bow. "Ayo, everyone, bow to the boss! Finally, someone who can keep this circus in line!"
Leona, lounging on the sidelines, cracked open an eye and smirked. “’Bout time. Herbivores usually flake out, but I knew you were better than the rest.” He stretched lazily, like he’d personally orchestrated your decision. “Just keep the snacks coming, and we’ll get along fine.”
Epel looked between them and grinned, his enthusiasm much more grounded. “It’s great to have ya! With you around, maybe Leona will actually show up to warmups... or not just sleep through it.” He shot a pointed glance at their captain, who was, of course, ignoring him entirely.
“Eh,” Leona drawled, flicking his tail dismissively.
“You could work on that attitude,” you muttered, earning a low chuckle from him.
“See, I told you they’d fit right in!” Ruggie said, gesturing at you dramatically. “They’re already roasting him. This is gonna be great!”
Epel, suddenly inspired, added, “And they’ll keep Ruggie from stealing the fresh apple juice we get after games. That’s worth it alone.”
As the reality of your new role settled in, you felt a bit like a lion tamer walking into a den of mischievous cubs and one very lazy big cat. But their enthusiasm—expressed in their own peculiar ways—was endearing.
Ruggie threw an arm around your shoulder. “Alright, boss, first order of business: snacks! Let’s discuss our game day budget and whether I can convince you to sneak me a sandwich before practice.”
Leona snorted but didn’t argue, which you took as a sign of approval. Epel pumped his fist. “We’re gonna crush it this year!”
Maybe managing this bunch wouldn’t be so bad after all. If nothing else, it’d definitely be entertaining.
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Mountain Lovers Club
When you joined Jade for a hike to "test the waters" of the Mountain Lovers Club, you had your doubts. You were prepared for a lot of things—maybe getting lost in the wilderness, maybe Jade pulling out his eerie cryptid knowledge, or maybe just a weirdly formal lecture about moss. What you weren’t prepared for was… actually enjoying yourself.
Jade led the way with an unhurried confidence, pointing out various wild plants, their uses, and fun facts about the environment. He wasn’t his usual enigmatic self, either. He seemed lighter, almost enthusiastic, as he described a tiny wildflower you would’ve missed entirely.
“This particular species only blooms during the autumn months,” he said, crouching to show you. “Quite fascinating how it adapts to the cooler temperatures, don’t you think?”
You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at how his face lit up when he spoke. Jade was… cute? When he wasn’t talking about mushrooms in a way that made you question your mortality, he was actually kind of charming.
By the time you reached a rocky outcrop with a gorgeous view of the campus, you realized you’d been smiling for most of the hike. Jade noticed too.
“It seems I’ve made a decent impression,” he said, turning toward you with a soft grin. “I’m pleased to see you enjoying yourself.”
“It’s… relaxing,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I didn’t think it’d be this fun.”
Jade tilted his head. “Does that mean you’d consider joining the Mountain Lovers Club?”
You hesitated for a moment, but as you looked at the breathtaking view and the rare, genuine smile on his face, the answer came easily. “Yeah. I’ll join.”
For a split second, Jade’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly schooled his expression into his usual composed smile. “Wonderful. I must say, I wasn’t expecting this outcome, but I’m glad. It’s not every day someone sees the beauty in what I love.”
There was an odd warmth in his voice that made your heart skip a beat. As he turned to lead the way back, he added, “Now that we’re a team, I look forward to our next adventure.”
Jade Leech was genuinely happy. And, you realized, so were you.
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Gargoyle Research Society
When you told Malleus you were joining the Gargoyle Research Society, his reaction was almost imperceptible at first. A slight widening of his eyes, a pause as though he was waiting to see if you were serious, and then—pure, unfiltered delight.
"You have an interest in gargoyles?" he asked, his voice both surprised and reverent, as if you'd just confessed to enjoying a rare and ancient art form.
You nodded. "Yeah. I think they're fascinating. The designs, the history… They’re like stone guardians with stories etched into them."
For a moment, Malleus simply looked at you, his emerald eyes shimmering like the light of distant stars. Then, as if unable to contain his joy, he smiled—a soft, genuine expression that sent a wave of warmth through the chilly Ramshackle evening.
"This pleases me greatly," he said, his tone unusually light. “Not many share my appreciation for gargoyles. Often, I speak of them, and others… how do I put it? Pretend to listen.”
“Well, I’m definitely not pretending,” you said, grinning. “I’m in for real.”
Malleus clasped his hands together in what could only be described as regal excitement. "Then I must share something with you. Sometimes, I create gargoyles myself."
“You what?” you asked, laughing in delight.
“Yes,” he replied earnestly, his eyes alight. “Carving stone requires patience, but there is a certain satisfaction in breathing life into something lifeless. Well, not literal life, of course, but a soul of sorts.”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, the image of Malleus with a chisel and hammer popping into your head. “I never would have guessed. That’s… really cool.”
“I can show you some of my creations, if you’d like,” he offered, almost shyly.
“I’d love that,” you said, genuinely glad to have joined him. “I think I’m going to enjoy this club.”
The glow in his expression was impossible to miss. It wasn’t just that you had joined his club—it was that, for once, someone truly shared his passion. “And I am glad to have you,” he said softly.
In that moment, under the watchful eyes of the stone guardians scattered around campus, it felt like you had chosen exactly the right place.
Masterlist
tags: @techno-danger
a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is a part of film studies sorry :(
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baurem · 5 months ago
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cw: children, bakugo being a tired dad and then some wc: 604
with the soft patter of small feet and the door’s hinges quietly crying as it was pushed open, you feigned sleep. through ajar lids, in peeked your mixture of love, your husband and your own affections personified into something you both cradled and loved undoubtedly.
biting back a grin, you listened for the shuffling of your bedsheets as your daughter forcefully settled in between the spooning position that bakugo held you in. 
“papa..” your three year old called out in a whisper, her palm lightly tapped his cheek.  still in his drowsy in between, bakugo hummed roughly to let her know he was listening. 
“move over..” she whined as she pushed his shoulder to create more space for herself
“no, i was here first.” bakugo’s tongue languid with sleep but unmoving to your daughter’s attempts.
her little lips pursed like yours and her brows furrowed like his as she conceived a way to convince her hard-headed father to move. she turned her body to you, preparing to wake you up until a large hand interrupted her. 
“no, don’ wake y’er mama up.” his voice mellowed by fatherhood and patience. katsuki’s daughter turned with a pout at his whispered chiding, the same one he often wore against you.
  still, even while unconscious and in his grasp, he sought to preserve your sleep though there wasn’t a need for it (not that he should know). 
he lured her back with his hand splayed out on her tummy which earned yet another whine from her as she sat back into the tight space between you and your husband. 
she stared back with a disgruntled expression he knew all too well; cheeks puffed up, eyes narrowed that were still swollen with sleep, and a deep frown all at the lack of space her father provided. 
katsuki stared back, now more awake than before, but still just as adamant and stubborn as the red-eyed girl before him. 
“gotta use your manners if ya wanna be here.” 
after a beat of contemplation, your daughter spoke up, “papa..?”
“hm?” katsuki hummed, attentive.
“can you— can you pleeaase move over?” she asked, softer as to not disturb her mother. 
katsuki deemed it good enough since it was too early in the morning for a lesson. abiding by her plea, he shifted over which opened up the space for his little one. 
“mm.. thank you.” his daughter murmured as she squirmed into her place under the sheets and between her parents. 
katsuki hummed in a quiet response. his attention on the way her eyes fought sleep, nestled in the warmth and scent of her parents. once he’s sure she’s asleep, his attention shifts over to you.
“were you going to help at all?” he huffs. 
“i knew you had it.” you toss over to gaze to your family with a sapped grin at his discovery of your consciousness; your husband furrowed his brows at you like your little girl would when she didn’t get what she wanted and your daughter’s face squished on the pillow like his would whenever he came home from a long patrol.
katsuki saw you too in that moment, you think; with her hair disheveled in the mornings just like yours would be and the light snoring from her— the snoring you both vehemently denied though he insisted on it. 
he must’ve also been feeling that same swell in your chest too, the overflowing of love seeping out of your chest and into your throat. the kind of feeling that only mornings like these could bring out of you both; you, your husband, and the whole of you both combined snuggled in bed together.
“you always do.” 
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kbwrites · 6 months ago
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Found Family
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synopsis: Yuji was so seamlessly integrated into your lives, a ball of sunshine in your normally quiet life. How will he react to the news that you're expecting?
⚝content: Nanami x f! reader, Yuji being your adopted son basically, a tiny bit of angst, mostly fluff, found family.
⚝wc: 1.5k
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The Nanami household was usually quiet, and peaceful. Light jazz music filled the rooms, the soft notes from the record player gently floated through the air. Every detail in the house had been carefully considered, a home where Kento hoped they could build a life filled with love and serenity.
The serenity, however, was often interrupted by his pink-haired cohort.
“Seconds please (Y/N)!” Yuji beamed holding up a clean plate with a wide grin.
Kento, seated at the table with his usual composed expression, felt a warmth in his chest as we watched his dear wife and Yuji. He secretly cherished these moments, finding comfort in the young man’s lively presence. The way his laughter filled the room, the way his energy brought a spark of joy to the quiet corners—it all made Kento realize just how much he had come to love having Yuji around.
“Itadori, you’ll get sick if you eat so fast.” Kento scolds gently, earning a pout from the high schooler. You can only smile apologetically as your husband maintains his serious demeanor.
“Kento…” You chide. “Yuji’s a growing boy, he needs to eat~” You wink at Yuji as he digs into his second helping.
You were always so quick to defend the younger boy from your husband. And although it would earn a disapproving sigh, Kento couldn’t help but adore you more for it. The way you cared for Yuji as if he were you own. This was the life he had always hoped for—a beautiful home…you. It was an unspeakable joy that made every day worth living.
And the best part? The little family you had built was about to get a bit bigger.
You glance over at your husband, wondering if you should be the one to break the news to Yuji. He returns your gaze with a small smile before clearing his throat.
“Yuji,” Kento began, his voice steady. “We have… something to tell you.”
Yuji looked up from his plate, his mouth full but curiosity shining in his eyes. You reached for Kento’s hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as you shared a tender smile. The moment felt perfect, filled with the quiet anticipation of the next chapter of your lives—one that would bring even more joy and love into your growing family.
You took a deep breath, stilling your nerves. Yuji would be the first one outside of yourselves to find out.
“Yuji… I’m… we’re–”
“Pregnant.” You finish, the proverbial weight being lifted off your shoulders. You take in a breath as you look at Yuji, waiting for him to process the information.
He swallows, gaze flicking between you and Kento. He uncharacteristically… quiet. You could see the wheels turning, his mouth slightly agape.
Kento’s brow furrowed slightly, unsure of how to interpret the silence. He had expected Yuji to be excited—overjoyed. Jumping up immediately and grabbing you into a tight hug, at which point Kento would scold him again, reiterating that he would need to “Be more gentle… (Y/N) is pregnant.” He exchanged a concerned glance with you, searching for some understanding.
Yuji cleared his throat, voice softer than usual. “That’s..” He takes a breath, flashing his signature smile, however it didn’t quite reach his eyes as it normally did. “Amazing. I’m…really happy for you guys!”
You reach out, offering a comforting smile. “We wanted you to be the first to know.” 
The dinner continued, but the lively atmosphere had dimmed. The excitement that had filled the room was now replaced by a more subdued mood. Yuji picked at his food, his usual quips and jokes conspicuously absent. The lively energy that normally accompanied his presence was replaced by a contemplative silence.
Kento cleared his throat after a few moments, trying to shift the focus and bring some warmth back to the table. “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe we could all do something together.”
The pink-haired teen looked up, blinking as he found himself again in his lost thoughts. “I think I’ll be busy with training.” He replies, not quite making eye contact with either of you.
You spoke up, intent on breaking through the walls. “You’ll be staying over tonight though?” 
Kento had bought a house with four bedrooms, partially because he wanted to be prepared for any children you’d agree to give him. But also because he was tired of Yuji sleeping on the couch when he visited your old place. He was given a room, furnished with some of his essentials. Kento made it very clear that Yuji always had a place there.
But instead of the usual eagerness to sleepover—he hesitates.
“I’m not sure–”
“Yuji. It’s late. Just stay here.” His voice soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.
You leave the bathroom, rubbing the last bit of cream into your skin. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room as you saw Kento sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.
“Something on your mind honey?” You question taking a seat next to him, already knowing the answer.
Kento looked up, his honey-brown eyes reflected in the gentle light of the lamp. “Yuji didn’t seem… happy about the news tonight.” 
You reached out to your husband, placing a hand on his knee “He was probably just caught off guard Ken. It’s a big change, give him some time.”
He sighed, fingers absentmindedly brushing against yours. “I thought he’d be excited. I thought—”
You leaned closer, resting your head on his broad shoulder. Kento wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him. The warmth of his embrace filling you with a silent reassurance. He glances down at you.
“Dear… could you…” His voice trailed off, a subtle hint of hesitation in his words. You already knew what he was going to ask. After all, Kento’s bedside manner wasn’t exactly what made you fall for him. You just nod at him, before standing up and leaving the room.
Knock Knock.
You wait outside Yuji’s room before you hear him say “Come in.” 
You pushed the door open slowly, taking in the space. It was so uniquely Yuji, posters of his favorite actresses (that Kento would most definitely disapprove of). Beside them, a few shelves were crammed with manga volumes and action figures, the game console he loved to play with game discs littering the floor by the TV. And right by his bed, a picture of the three of you on vacation last year. Taken right after you both pushed Kento into the pool. It was his room. Without a doubt.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture slumped, gaze fixed on the floor. You approached him, sitting down on the bed. He looked up, his eyes reflecting unease and weariness.
“Hey, Yuji.” Your voice as soft as a feather. “Can we talk?”
“(Y/N). It’s not that I’m not happy for you and Nanamin. It's just—” He takes a shaky breath. Your gaze softens, waiting patiently as he tries to find the words to express his feelings.
“It’s just,” his voice breaking slightly. “I… love it here. You and Nanamin are like my family. And now you’ll have a kid. A real kid. I’m just worried I won’t have a place here anymore...”
The vulnerability in his words was palpable, the pink-haired teen looked down again, his fingers nervously twisting the edge of his blanket. He took a deep breath, you take one too. 
You gently squeezed his shoulder and stood up, motioning for him to stay put. You left the room briefly, walking down the hallway to where Kento had left the bedroom to wait. He looked up as you approached, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. You took his hand, leading him to the room.
As you entered, you guided Kento to stand beside Yuji. Yuji looked up at him with a mixture of apprehension. The older male took a deep breath, his usual composed demeanor much softer.
“Yuji. You will Always have a place here.”
Yuji’s head snapped up, surprise evident in his eyes. 
“I know that and I—”
“No. You will always have a place here because you are family.”
The room seemed to exhale collectively, the tension lifting as Yuji’s eyes widened with a mix of disbelief and relief.
“(Y/N) is going to need all of our help, our baby will need all of our help. We need you Yuji. Our family wouldn't be complete without you.” Kento’s hand reaches out, resting on Yuji’s shoulder. 
Yuji’s eyes glistened as the reality of Kento’s words sank in. The years of feeling like an outsider, of worrying about his place in the world. Finally finding his family. Without a word, he stands up drawing you both into a tight embrace.
“Thank you… (Y/N). Nanamin. I’ll be the best big brother ever, or uncle? I’m not sure but I’m here. Whatever you need.”
In that embrace, the uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging and love. The family you were building together, with all its changes and challenges, felt more united than ever.
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atrwriting · 5 months ago
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thinking about stripper reader with old man logan.
he came in every week or so — disheveled outfit and hair. he was older, sure — but not in the way most men his age looked. no — the years didn’t wear on him, but whatever he did that day did. his wrinkles weren’t deep, but the bags under his eyes were. his smile lines weren’t permanent, but the distant look in his eyes was. his bones didn’t crack because they were old, but because they were under too much stress. you couldn’t help it — you wanted to take that pain away.
no one wanted to approach him because he seemed to keep to himself — worried he was a creep or something. he was quiet, too — only speaking when he ordered a drink or another after that. he replied in nods or shakes of the head, and his eyes were always on the stage. despite the fact that he tipped well — no one bit.
you were feeling brave that day when you approached him. you kept it simple — black lace teddy, black lace thong, and black heels. hair bouncy with light makeup, hoping to keep the star of the show your eyes and smile. you knew he could see you out of the corner of his eye, and it threatened your confidence — but he had peaked your interest for too long for you to toss and stumble now.
“hey, handsome,” you spoke, keeping your tone light. “need another?”
he didn’t cock his head towards you, keeping his gaze in front. he swirled the small sip of whisky left in his glass, appearing to contemplate your question. after a moment, he responded, “dancers don’t take drink orders, darlin’.”
“no,” you spoke, laughing slightly. you bent at the hips, hoping to be lower than his eye line. “but they don’t when they give private dances — interested?”
“no, thanks.”
his voice was final — and even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to push it. you stood then, taking a step back. “okay — i’ll send a waitress over.”
after working the room — it was your turn to take one of the side stages. you had your pick of which — but you decided to keep it as far away from the man as possible. if he didn’t want to be bothered, who were you to threaten a good tip? curiosity would not be killing the cat tonight — especially not when there was more money to be made.
a few men had gathered during your set, throwing a few dollar bills here and there as you swung your hips to the music. you had switched into a falls cowboys cheerleader outfit — white shorts, blue top, and white bra. cliche and overdone, but by the look of your tips — you couldn’t care less.
you also couldn’t care less when you noticed a set of eyes on you — the man’s.
he was unashamed in the way he stared at you. he had gotten another round at some point — but wasn’t drinking any of the contents. he simply gripped it tight as he stared at your swaying hips and perfect curves. you bit your lip at the thought of him regretting turning you away, the confidence intoxicating you. before the song ended, you made sure to lock eyes with him — letting you know that this was your stage and your body he was silently and secretly drooling over. when you sent a cheeky wink his way, he shook his head — downing his glass in an instant. you smiled when he stood from his seat, immediately darting for the “vip” lounge in the back that proudly boasted a sign that read “private dances.”
when you made your way into the back room, you were told that a certain someone had specially asked for you. once you made your way back there, you found what you were looking for.
“make me feel young again, darlin’.”
you couldn’t help but smile. he didn’t say it in an insecure way, but in a way that suggested that his day had been too long and too tiring.
“tell me how you like it?”
he didn’t say anything — he just watched you. his eyes never left yours as you flung off your top, exposing your breasts. he drank his entire glass of whisky before you had planted yourself on his thighs. the flesh of your ass was like to pillows, fit for his large hands. he didn’t touch you — but by how hard he gulped, you could tell he wanted to.
“touch me, sugar,” you whispered. “i won’t tell.”
there was hesitation in his eyes, but soon his gaze darkened. restraint had fallen through the cracks, gone and forgotten. was a shame he had already paid for the dance — you would’ve fucked him for free.
now it was time to make it worth his while.
the man beneath you ground your round hips down into his pelvis, groaning at the friction. he hadn’t seen peace or pleasure since never, but it held his facial feature hostage as his nostrils picked up on the scent of your arousal. warm, tangy juices that leaked through the lace in your panties onto the denim of his jeans.
“take off your pants,” you breathed. “i’ll remind you how young you are — if you promise you’ll show me the skill that only comes with age.”
he had you bent over the table, hands behind your back held by his belt. he planted two heavy feet next to each of your ankles, keeping your legs spread and ready for him. his thrusts were hard against the back of your hips as you only had the table’s edge to support you. you felt him repeatedly hit your cervix, wincing at the aggression.
“that’s not the spot, huh, darlin’?” he spat.
you stayed silent — wanting to see how he reacted.
“i can feel it — resistance,” he grunted. “that sweet pussy needs more, doesn’t she?”
his hard, calloused hands rotated your hips so the tip of his cock repeatedly began to smack into the softest and gummiest part of your inner walls. a moan ripped through you like no other — your back arching upwards as your hips desperately tried to meet his thrusts.
“there it is — that’s it, darlin’. come on, fight back.” you could feel the rough skin of his finger tips dig up and into your pelvis, welcoming the pressure. one of his hands moved underneath you — hauling your hips upwards — pressing against your lower abdomen. he could feel the outline of his cock fucking into your womb, stuffing you full. “i can feel how deep you’re takin’ it, darlin’ — pussy so greedy, ain’t she? — always wantin’ more? those young boys just ain’ it? i’ll take care of her, darlin’…”
you were a whining mess beneath him — practically incoherent. he could hear, smell, feel, taste everything you were feeling. he had every part of you in his hands — completely vulnerable to his mercy and touch. and when your hips started to shake — fighting with him and against him — all he could do was force them down as you took his cock. you whined and whine and whinedwhinedwhined for more until the glam makeup began to melt off your face.
the man watched as your body shook for him — him and only him. you found his wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you tired to anchor yourself. the pleasure was too much, causing your head to spin. you could feel the man rub the skin of your ass tenderly, coaxing you into your orgasm. your womb bloomed for him, wanting to suck him dry and never let him go. his groans were animalistic, filling the room as you begged him to fill your pussy. he smacked your ass once, twice, thrice before he pulled out and painted your back with his cum.
once he pulled out, you were still on your stomach on the table as you tried to catch your breath. he bent down to meet your eyes — a youthful glow on his face — before he pressed a kiss to your lips.
“you just ruined men my own age for me.”
“get your things, doll — takin’ you away from here.”
———
depravity - L xoxo lmk what u think ;)
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tender-rosiey · 1 year ago
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1am thoughts, thinking about Gojo introducing kid Megumi to his newborn baby and Megumi being protective of them and even calling them his little sister/brother at one point and gojo is running LAPS he's just overwhelmed and happy over a small yet powerful phrase.
to protect — gojo satoru x f!reader
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a/n: this is so cute i am gonna cry also megumi is like 11-12 here
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you’re finally back home, after a long day at the hospital. you’re finally engulfed in the comfort of your bed while your husband is still sat up with his little girl bundled in his arms.
he hasn’t let go of her since you have been discharged.
“’toru, honey, you have to sleep soon; you can hold her tomorrow,” you sleepily murmur to your husband.
he nods and whispers, “I know. It’s just I—I can’t believe it’s real,” he kisses her forehead softly, “that she is finally here, our little princess.”
a tired smile makes its way to your lips. you hum in understanding, gently caressing his cheek. he sighs happily, before looking at you, “but you, missy, actually need to rest. you’ve had a long day.”
you frown and he chuckles, and his hand moves to stroke your hair, “rest, pretty. you were a champion today,” you move to nuzzle closer to his side and your arm wraps around his torso.
and so his little girl is comfortably nestled in one of his arms, while the other is wrapped around you so his hand can pet your head lovingly.
satoru truly feels like he is holding the world in his hands right now.
suddenly, the door slowly creaks open and a very familiar face peaks from it. satoru chuckles, “come in, megumi; they’re both asleep anyway.”
the boy carefully pads his way to gojo.
he is so used to seeing him being all goofy and unserious, so it catches him a bit off-guard how serene and quiet he is being right now. megumi looks at the sleeping baby then whispers, “what’s her name?”
“d/n,” satoru answers fondly.
megumi nods then observes her for a small while, “she really is a perfect mix between the both of you.”
a soft and quiet laugh escapes satoru’s lips, “you’re right,” he looks up at megumi with a grin, “you wanna hold her?”
the boy is taken back and his expression betrays him as nervousness takes over his face. his eyes don’t leave the girl and his gaze is more than troubled, “…what if I hurt her?”
satoru shakes his head, “you scared? she is my daughter; she is the strongest baby ever,” he grins, “no one can hurt her.”
megumi rolls his eyes, but quickly directs his focus to the little girl. he takes a moment, before he extends his arms. satoru gently places her in his arms. megumi’s hold on her is protective, and he doesn’t look as awkward as satoru thought he would.
actually, he is quite the natural.
he gently rocks her, and he can’t help but smile at her sleeping face. megumi whispers to her, “hi there.”
she coos at him, and starts swaying his arms around. she slowly opens her eyes, and a tiny smile appears on her chubby face. megumi’s eyes widen a little, and he immediately looks at gojo, “she is smiling.”
satoru laughs, “she is a very smiley baby, but i think she likes you a lot. she only smiled at y/n and me,” he feels you stir a bit in your sleep.
he pulls you closer and rubs your shoulder then he giggles at how quickly you fall back asleep. while satoru is occupied by you, megumi is staring in awe at little miss gojo.
later, satoru wakes up in the middle of the night to check on his little girl in the adjacent room. he groggily gets up, after kissing your forehead. he walks there, and when he finally reaches the room, he notices the lights are already on, and the door is left a bit open.
he peaks a little into the room, and sees megumi standing by the crib. he is fondly looking at d/n, and gently petting her head. he is whispering something to her, but satoru is still able to hear it all the same.
“don’t grow up to be annoying like your dad, please.”
satoru scowls, and contemplates bursting into the room, and bullying the hell out of megumi. however, he ultimately decides against it. he doesn’t end up regretting the decision.
megumi gently boops her nose, “you’re like a little sister to me now, so I promise to protect you.”
she squeals and makes grabby hands at him, and he chuckles, “you believe me, huh?”
satoru slowly backs away from the door and walks away. when he is a safe distance from the door, he starts running and bursts into your shared room.
he dramatically falls to the ground, “that was… the cutest thing ever! after d/n and y/n’s smiles, of course.”
he stands up, proudly. his heart is at ease as he now knows that there is yet another person to look after his baby girl, if something happens. a content grin is on his face as he enjoys the silence and comfort. it’s short lived, as always.
a pillow is thrown at his face, and he stumbles to the ground.
“that’s for waking me up, satoru!”
“noooo, baby, I am sorry!”
“uh—,” megumi awkwardly stands at the door, holding d/n up, “guys, she pooped.”
satoru grins, and excitedly stands up—with a camera that he got out of nowhere to take photos of her—he coos, “aww! your first shit, pretty girl? what a good girl!”
megumi places her on the changing table beside your bed. the smell of her great ‘achievement’ fills the door, and he takes the chance of gojo being distracted to run out of the room, before another nuclear explosion drops.
the girl is gleefully clapping upon seeing her dad, and he reciprocates the smile tenfold. he gently holds her feet and sways them slightly, “such a big girl, already pooping!”
“want daddy to change your diapers for you?” he coos and the girl just puts her thumb in her mouth and starts kicking her feet. he chuckles and slowly opens the diaper. he is met with the vilest smell, and he can’t believe his sweet daughter can produce such smells.
however, he quickly composes himself, and tries to make his way through the travail of changing the diaper. he proves to be too weak because he, after a moment, looks at you, “uh, babe, teamwork makes the dream work?”
you groan, falling back to the bed.
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kenacoki · 4 months ago
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Save the Best for Last
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//Pairing// Evan “Buck” Buckley x Fem!Reader
//Summary// After so many terrible dates, you always seem to find yourself coming back to Buck’s loft.
//Word Count// 5.58k
//Request// smut prompts #2 & #4
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//Warnings// smutty smut smut :)), Evan Buckley being a certified munch, lazy handjobs, p in v sex, and possessive talk
//Dividers// sister-lucifer
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"Oh, goddamn it."
Here you are, standing outside Buck's loft door at 10:00 at night with a six-pack of beer in hand as you contemplate your life choices.
Your latest date had been a complete and total disaster.
The man was loud, obnoxious, and a bit too handsy for your taste. So, you left the date early feeling frustrated and angry. All you want to do is relax and complain to your best friend.
Reaching into your pocket, you pull out your key to Buck's place. Letting yourself in, you sigh quietly as you slip your jacket off. The loft is empty and quiet.
"Buck?" You call out, setting the beer in the fridge.
Maybe he’s in the shower? Or asleep? You don’t get a response, so you head into the living room, flopping down onto Buck’s new couch with a huff.
You lean your head back against the couch, your eyes fluttering shut as you sigh heavily. As you sit there mentally cursing out your dumb date, the sound of footsteps causes you to open your exhausted (e/c) eyes, looking over at the source of the noise; it’s Buck, walking out of his steaming bathroom.
Completely naked.
You immediately turned red, quickly looking away and sitting up. "Jesus Christ," you blurt out, feeling your heart pound in your chest. "Buck, for god's sake, a towel please." You keep your eyes trained on the wall in front of you, refusing to look at your equally embarrassed friend.
"Oh—oh god, I didn’t know you came in!” Buck mumbles, grabbing a discarded towel from the bathroom floor and wrapping it around his waist.
Well, now you understand how he got the nickname Firehose.
"How long have you been here?"
"Not long." You mutter, still refusing to look at him. The image of his bare chest is burned into your brain. What you wouldn’t give to rake your fingers over his toned muscles—
Nope. Stop. No, nope. Bad thoughts.
“I’m just uh, gonna go grab some clothes.” Buck practically scurries away, disappearing up the stairs to his bedroom. You exhale, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
Finally looking away from the wall, you bury your face in your hands.
This is bad. You and Buck are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. You need to get these feelings under control, but it’s so, so hard.
Buck emerges a moment later, thankfully with underwear and sweatpants on, although his chest is still bare. You try not to stare at his toned upper body as he shuffles back over to the couch, plopping himself down next to you; leaving little to no space. You desperately try not to think about it.
"S-so, how was your date?" He asks, his voice is casual but a tinge of tension in his words.
You try not to grimace as you remember the disaster that had been your evening. “Ugh, it was terrible. He was so loud and obnoxious, it was awful.” You sigh heavily, shaking your head. “I don’t know why I keep going on these stupid dates, honestly.”
Buck shifts next to you, his shoulder brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. He’s so close, that you can practically feel the warmth radiating off of his body. It’s driving you crazy.
You suddenly jerk forward, rubbing your sweaty palms on your dress as you stand, “I uh, I got us beer—to drink. Do you want one?”
Smooth, real smooth (y/n).
Buck nods, his eyes following you as you walk away, his gaze trailing down your body hungrily. He can’t help it, the sight of your curves in that tight (f/c) dress is so damn distracting. He swallows hard, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappear into the kitchen.
You open the fridge door, the cool air hitting your flushed face. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You need to stop reacting this way to him, you and Buck are just friends. No matter what your stupid heart may think.
You grab a couple of beers, opening one for Buck and one for yourself. Heading back into the living room, you desperately try to get your thoughts under control.
Buck’s in the same spot as before when you come back, his arm stretched out along the back of the couch. You hand him the beer and sit back down on the couch, putting a little distance between you this time.
As you get comfortable, you take a long swig of your drink. Buck does the same, his eyes flicking over to you as he does.
The tension in the room feels thick as if you could slice through it with a knife. You take another sip of beer, glancing over at Buck. He’s still looking at you, his eyes roaming over your face. It’s making you nervous.
“What?” You ask, lifting an eyebrow at him.
"Hm?" Buck seems to snap out of his thoughts, blinking at you. "Oh, uh, nothing—Just thinking." He replies, looking away quickly and taking another drink of beer.
You along nod awkwardly, taking another sip of your beer as you try to ignore the way Buck’s eyes still glance at you,“Don’t strain yourself too hard.”
Buck snorts, rolling his eyes at your sarcastic comment. The corner of his lips twitch upwards, a small smirk growing on his face. But the smirk fades quickly, a flicker of something you can’t quite place flashing across his eyes.
"You’re just hilarious, y'know that?” He teases, but there’s an undertone to it that you can’t quite put your finger on.
You roll your eyes at him, though your heart skips a beat at his smirk. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you two have gotten again, the heat from his body practically seeping through his clothes onto your own skin.
“Damn right, I am.” You snark back at him, taking another drink of beer as you try to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest.
Buck lets out a soft laugh, his eyes locking on yours again. The smirk on his face fades as he takes a deep breath, seeming to come to some kind of decision. He shifts closer, his body leaning slightly into yours.
"Can I ask you something?"
You involuntarily tense up, your heart slamming in your chest. His sudden shift in demeanor can’t help but make you nervous, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.
“Sure, yeah.” You say, trying to keep your voice even. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze with your own. “What’s up?”
Buck hesitates for a moment, his tongue darting out as he wets his lips. He’s so close to you now, his face only a few inches away from yours. When he speaks, his voice is quieter than before, barely above a whisper.
"Why do you keep going on these dates?"
His question catches you off guard, making your stomach twist into knots. You certainly hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. You take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. You can feel your heart racing, the sound of it drumming in your ears.
"I, uh, I don’t know. Does-Does it really matter?" You reply, trying to keep your voice casual. But you can feel yourself start to fidget with your fingers nervously.
Buck watches you for a moment, his eyes scanning over your face. His hand moves, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch is gentle, his fingers tracing lightly along your cheek.
"Yeah, it matters." He says, his voice soft. "It matters because all these dates are doing is making you miserable. I hate seeing you like this."
Your breath catches in your chest as his fingers lightly trail along your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You can feel your self-control slipping, your heart and mind warring with each other. You want to lean into his touch, but at the same time, you know you need to keep your distance.
"It’s fine, Buck. I promise." You manage to say, but the shakiness in your voice betrays your words.
Buck’s hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin. His eyes are still fixed on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering.
"No, it's not." He says firmly. "You're not fine. You’re miserable. I mean, you're going on these dates like some kind of punishment, like you think you need to suffer through it for some reason."
He moves even closer to you, so close that you can just barely feel his breath fan against your skin.
His words strike a nerve in you, because you know he’s right. You’ve been using these dates to try and punish yourself, to try and ignore your feelings for Buck. Now he’s calling you out on it, and it’s making it hard for you to think straight.
You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You’re so weak for him, it’s pathetic.
Buck’s hand moves from your cheek to your chin, tilting your head up slightly, making you look at him. Your eyes lock with his, your heart racing at his proximity. His gaze is intense like he’s searching for something in your eyes.
"I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself." He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your jawline. "You deserve better than these idiots you keep going on dates with. You deserve someone who actually cares about you."
Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, your heart clenching at his words. You know he's right, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it. You try to deflect, trying to keep the conversation light.
"Yeah? And who do you have in mind for me then?" You half-joke, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Buck’s thumb stops moving, his gaze steady and unwavering. His other hand moves to your hip, his fingers gripping you gently through the fabric of your dress
"Me." He says, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.
Your eyes widen in shock at his words, your mind reeling. You’re speechless, unable to believe what he’s saying. Is he being serious?
You take a shaky breath, trying to form a response but struggle to find the words. Buck’s hand on your hip tightens slightly, pulling you closer to him.
“You…you do?” You ask, your voice a little breathless.
Buck nods, and his grip on your hip tightens even more, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel his heart beating fast, mirroring your own. He’s so close to you that you can see the tiniest flecks of green in his blue eyes; you can’t help but feel compelled to touch his birthmark.
"Yeah.” He says firmly, his voice rough and low. “I do. I want you so bad it’s been driving me insane.”
Your mind is swirling, your body reacting to his every touch and word. You should be pushing him away, shoving him back, and telling him to snap out of it. This is a terrible idea, bound to end in disaster. You could lose your friendship, and your job if things go bad. But you can’t bring yourself to care.
"God Buck, me too.” You murmur, your hand moving to clutch at his waist, your fingers gripping the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
Buck lets out a low groan at your words. Your confession is like a spark, igniting a fire within him. He leans even closer until there’s barely an inch of space left between your bodies.
"You have no idea how bad I want you.” He says, his voice practically growling. “I want to kiss every inch of you, make you forget your own name.”
“Then do it.” You whisper, your voice is a little shaky but so filled with desire it’s undeniable. You want this, you want him.
You. Need. Buck.
Buck doesn’t hesitate, his lips crashing down against yours in a heated kiss. His hand in your hair tightens, angling your head back to give him better access to your mouth. His other hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you into him.
The kiss is intense, desperate, like he’s trying to devour you whole.
You let out a muffled moan, your hand moving to grasp his neck; clinging to him like a lifeline. Your body feels like it’s been set on fire, every inch of you burning with need and desire for him. You can’t get enough, you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.
You open your mouth to him, letting his tongue slide into your mouth, your own tongue meeting his in a frenzied dance. You can feel yourself falling apart, losing yourself in the intensity of his touch, of his kiss.
Buck’s hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he lifts you up, easily settling you on his lap so youre straddling him. You move your hips, grinding yourself down onto him, his body reacting involuntarily to the pressure. You can feel his hardness press against your core, it sends a throb of need throughout your entire body.
Gasping, Buck breaks the kiss before moving his lips to your neck; his mouth hot and demanding against your skin.
“You…drive me…crazy.” He mutters between kisses, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. Hishands slide under the lacy hem of your dress, his fingers burning hot against your skin as they trace patterns along your sides. You arch into his touch.
“You’re all I can think about. Every day.” He continues, his voice gravelly with lust. “God, even when we’re at work.”
You let out a gasp as his tongue swirls over your skin, your fingers tangling in his curly, blonde hair. His words make your heart pound even faster.
You press yourself against Buck, your hips rolling involuntarily against his, seeking more of that delicious friction. You can feel him growing harder underneath you, only making you ache for more.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve had to go to the bathroom to get myself under control,” Buck admits, his voice rumbles against your skin. He moves his hands lower, cupping your ass and grinding you down onto him. His mouth moves lower, his teeth grazing over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone, his thumb moving over your hip bone, tracing the outline of your underwear.
You let out a soft moan, your head falling back as he works his mouth down your neck and across your chest. His touch is like gasoline on an already out-of-control fire, and you can feel yourself losing more and more control.
“Buck…” You breathe out, his name a plea and a prayer all in one.
Buck moans at the sound, his hands moving to your hips again, holding you still against him. His mouth moves back up to your neck, his teeth and lips roaming over your skin.
“Fuck, I’ve wanted you so long.” He mutters, his voice rough and strained. “You keep coming to me after those stupid dates, all dressed up in these pretty dresses. Do you have any idea what it does to me?”
The mental image of him watching you from across the station, seeing you all dolled up for these dates and not being able to do anything about it, watching as you leave with another man, it makes your stomach clench. You wonder how many times he's sat there, fighting the urge to pull you into his lap, to kiss you senselessly and show everyone that you’re his.
You let out a pathetic whine, the thought making you throb with need.
Buck leans back slightly, his eyes raking over your disheveled form. You’re panting heavily, your (e/c) eyes dark with desire, lips swollen from his kisses. You’re a mess, and it makes him feel a sense of satisfaction that he’s the one who’s made you this way.
“God, look at you.” He murmurs, his hands pushing up your dress, his fingers tracing over your bare thighs. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”
You shiver as his hands move higher, brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You can feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, your underwear getting more and more damp at his touch. You want him, you need him so badly that it’s starting to become painful.
“Buck please,” You pant out, your voice pleading. “I need you…I need you so bad.”
Buck’s breath hitches at your words, his grip on your thighs faltering momentarily. He can see the desperation in your eyes, the need written all over your face.
“You’ve got me.” He says, his voice a low rumble. “You’ve always had me…just didn’t know it.”
Your heart clenches at his words, your mind warring with your body. Everything about this is a bad idea, you’re playing with fire here. But at this moment, with his hands on you, his body under yours, you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Prove it. Show me I’m yours, Buck.”
Buck’s eyes flash at your challenge, a wolfish smile spreading across his face. He moves without warning, standing up and easily lifting you with him. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, and your arms cling to his shoulders. Spinning around, he starts the ascent to his loft bedroom.
You cling to him as he moves through the apartment, his hands holding you tightly, supporting your weight without any effort. You bury your face in his neck, leaving teasing kisses along his skin, your tongue and teeth nipping at his pulse point. You can feel every muscle in his body as he moves, your hands roaming across his back and shoulders, your fingernails scraping gently over his skin.
As you reach the top of the stairs, he walks you over to the edge of the bed and sets you down on the soft comforter.
“(y/n)…” He mutters, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you. Your hair is tangled and messy, your chest heaving as you breathe heavily, your dress pooled up around your thighs, exposing your (s/c) skin. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
You smirk up at him, a feeling of power rushing through you at the way he’s looking at you. You lay back slowly, arching your back and letting the skirt of your dress ride up higher. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him.
“Pretty good way to go though, huh?” You tease lightly.
You don’t know how, but Buck’s eyes darken even more, the sight of you on his bed—practically inviting him to take you—pushes him over the edge.
“You’re such a tease.” He mutters, moving closer to you as his hands go to the waistband of his sweats.
You let out a small gasp as he starts to lower his sweatpants, the sight of him in nothing but low-hanging boxer briefs makes your mouth water. You can see the desire and hunger in his eyes, the fact that he wants you so badly sending a thrill of pleasure through you.
“Only for you, Buckley.”
Buck moves onto the bed, caging you in with his body, his hands on either side of your head.
“Better be.” He grins, leaning down to trail kisses along your jaw to your ear. His teeth nip at your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.
He moves lower, his lips finding your neck again, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark you know you’ll struggle to hide the next day.
You can feel your hands starting to shake as the ache between your legs grows and your mind gets fuzzy. You arch up into him, your body seeking more of his touch, more of his attention.
“Buck—need you to touch me.” You pant, your voice needy and desperate
Buck groans at your words, his hands sliding lower down your body, gliding over your stomach and then lower until they’re at the edge of your dress.
“Lift your hips.” He instructs, his voice commanding, leaving no room for argument. You instantly comply, lifting your hips off the bed, allowing him to slide your dress higher up your body.
With a quick tug, Buck pulls the dress up over your body and tosses it to the side. He takes a moment to admire you, trailing his eyes over every inch of you.
You’re laying there in just your (f/c) bra and panties, your legs slightly parted, your chest rising and falling quickly as you breathe through the need coursing through your body.
He leans back down over you, his hands and mouth immediately going to work. His mouth trails wet kisses down your torso and across your stomach, his fingers tracing lightly over your skin. You can’t help but whimper as he moves, your body responding to every touch, every graze of his lips against your skin.
His moves lower, just barely brushing the edge of your panties. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your body arches into his touch.
You feel Buck’s smile against your skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you still. He loves seeing you like this, lost in pleasure and need, your body responding to his every move. He moves his mouth lower, his tongue tracing over the thin, damp fabric of your panties.
“B-Buck!” Your voice cracks
“You’re so damn sensitive,” Buck mutters, his fingers slowly tugging at the edge of your panties before pulling them down your legs and tossing them off to the side.
You clasp a hand over your mouth as you hold back a whine as you feel his hot breath fan against your soaked center.
Buck gently nips at the inside of your thigh, leaving small marks on your sensitive skin. He moves one of his hands to rest on your knee, keeping you spread open.
“It’s okay, (y/n).” Buck says, his voice full of desire. “Let me hear you, let me hear what I do to you.”
Before you can respond, his mouth is pressed against your soaking folds.
You let out a high-pitched moan, your hands automatically digging into his scalp, your fingers gripping his curly blonde locks. His tongue is skilled, his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.
“F-fuckin’ dick!” You manage to gasp out, your words quickly turning into broken moans and gasps as he continues his assault
Buck doesn’t stop, his tongue working you over, his lips and teeth nipping and sucking at you in all the right places. He loves the way you taste, and the sound of your moans. But he’s greedy, and he wants more.
He slides his hand from your knee to your core, one of his calloused fingers gently teasing at your entrance.
Your body is buzzing with pleasure and your mind is fogged with need. The feeling of his finger at your entrance, teasing and tantalizing is almost too much.
“O-Oh god, Buck…please…don’t stop!” You desperately gasp out, feeling the coil inside you building.
Buck groans against you, sending vibrations straight to your core, “You’re so damn wet.”
“All for you—Fuck!”
Buck practically groans with need at your words. He gently pushes one of his fingers into you, the slide easy due to your arousal. You throw your head back from the pleasure.
“You’re like heaven, baby.” Buck mumbles, his voice filled with awe as his finger continues to move, gently stretching you in preparation for more. “Like an angel…My pretty, perfect angel.”
You can’t respond, your words are caught in your throat, replaced by gasps and moans as Buck continues to work you. He adds another finger, scissoring them gently, the sensation making your eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me.” Buck commands, “Open your eyes, (y/n). Let me see you.”
With a great amount of effort, you force your eyes open, to meet his gaze. The sight before you is one that’ll be engraved into your memory forever.
Buck’s hair is a mess from your fingers running through it, his cheeks flushed, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal, eyes dark with lust and possessiveness that makes your skin flush with goosebumps. He looks wild, untamed, and yet he’s completely focused on you, on giving you pleasure.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He whispers, his fingers curving slightly, the way that makes you see stars. “I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you forget your own name, how about that?”
“Yes, please!” You gasp, your words coming out needy and desperate. “Please, Buck, please. I need you-need you so bad.”
Reluctantly, Buck pulls his fingers from you, your walls fluttering around nothing. He doesn’t leave you waiting for long, shifting to kneel on the bed, his hands go to the edge of his underwear.
You watch, breathless and eager, as he slowly pushes down his boxer briefs, freeing his aching cock. The tip is red and dripping; you swear that you feel your mouth water.
“You see what you do to me? See what you caused?” Buck’s voice is rough, his breath coming out in heavy pants.
You run your eyes up and down his body, taking in the sight in front of you, the way his body is practically trembling, desperate for you. You lick your lips, your thoughts swarming with things that would make a sailor blush with shame.
“Please, Buck.”
He looks down at you, his eyes raking over your body, as he takes in the sight. You sound so needy, so desperate. He leans over you, his hands on either side of your head.
“Please, what, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice a low, teasing whisper.
You wrap your legs around his waist, your hands gripping his shoulders.
“Fuck. Me.”
Buck lets a curse slip from his lips as he captures yours in a hungry, rough kiss. One hand grasps your hip, while the other hand drifts to your thigh, gripping it firmly as he lines himself up at your entrance. Breaking the kiss, he lets his forehead rest against yours.
His eyes lock with yours, a silent question in his gaze. You nod, your hands running down his arms.
“Do it, Buck.” You say, your voice is desperate and whiny. “Please.”
Buck lets out a low moan at your voice, his body trembling from the effort of holding himself back. He can’t take it anymore, he needs you, needs to feel you around him, needs to taste you.
He slowly pushes into you, going as slowly as he can manage, relishing in the way your walls flutter against his member.
You let out a gasp, your hands tightening around his wrists, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel him fill you, stretch you in the best way possible. There’s a slight burn, but you welcome it as you shakily exhale.
“A-Ah...” Buck moans, his voice strained as his hands grip you tighter, burying himself fully inside you. His head drops to rest in the crease of your neck. “You feel… you feel so good—god, so warm.”
You let out a moan as he bottoms out, your mind lost in the pleasure of him filling you so perfectly. You want to tell him how good it feels, but words are lost amongst the fog in your mind.
Buck presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips feeling like fire against your skin. His hand leaves your hip and moves to grip yours, his fingers carefully intertwining with yours. Using his other hand he gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him
“Look at me, baby.” He mutters against your skin, “I wanna see your face. I wanna see how good I make you feel. Can you do that for me?”
You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The way he’s looking at you makes your heart swell; his eyes are filled with such adoration, such love.
Buck lets out a pleased noise, “That’s it, so good for me. Look so pretty when you’re like this…all flushed and trembling, just from my touch.”
He gives a shallow, experimental thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as an electric feeling shoots through your body.
He moans against your skin, the sound making the hairs on your neck stand up. He moves again, this time pulling out slightly before slowly pushing back into you. You gasp again, your hands grab at his shoulder; your nails breaking the skin.
He sets up a steady pace, pulling out and then pushing back in with slow, steady movements.
Each moan and gasp, each twitch of your brow or hitch in your breath, he takes it in, and stores it away. He shifts his hips slightly, changing the angle, and a guttural, desperate moan tumbles from your lips.
Buck lets out a taunting chuckle, “Did I find a sensitive spot, baby?” He asks, his voice teasing and gruff against your ear.
You can’t find it in you to respond, completely blissed out from the pleasure Buck is giving you. Your words catch in your throat, replaced by a series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’ as he continuously slams into you.
His pace quickens as his breath comes out in short pants, his hand gripping yours just a little bit tighter.
“F-Fuck…Who do you want?”
“You. Only you, Buck.”
Buck’s eyes close for a moment, a shudder raking through his body at your words. He lets out another moan, his head falling forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder as he untangles his hand from yours. Hastily he brings it down, harshly rubbing it against your sensitive bud.
The sudden change in stimuli makes your eyes roll back, the pleasure and heat reaching a breaking point.
“B-Buck, I’m not gonna—”
“I know, baby, I know.” He whines, his own voice wavering. “I want to feel you cum around me. C’mon, cum for me.”
That’s all it takes, the feeling of him inside you, the sound of his voice, the sensation of his hands on you against you—your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. Your entire body tenses, a broken moan falling from your lips as your back arches against Buck’s sweaty figure.
Buck groans as he feels you cum, your walls clenching around him tightly. His hips stutter, losing their steady rhythm as he pulls out and starts pumping himself over your stomach.
“Ngh—shit!” Buck gasps suddenly as he feels your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, taking over for him.
“(y-y/n), you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” You look up at him with a small, exhausted smile on your lips as you continue to leisurely pump him at your own pace.
Buck lets out a high-pitched whine, his hands gripping onto you tighter, “M-mm’ so close.”
“Then come for me, Evan.”
Buck lets out a desperate noise, the sound of his real name falling from your lips being his final breaking point.
“(y-y/n)—”
You keep stroking him through his orgasm, watching as his body shivers from the overstimulation. Slowly, Buck’s flushed face lifts from your shoulder, his breaths leaving his lips in heavy pants, the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile. His blue eyes meet your gaze, they’re hazy and unfocused.
“God, I love you.” He mutters, his voice a little hoarse, but still filled with an amount of tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat.
You bring your clean hand up to his face, running it through his messy, tangled hair, your fingernails gently massaging his scalp “I love you too.”
Buck lets out a content hum, pressing a few soft kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose—Anywhere he can reach without having to pull his body away from you.
You laugh softly at his affection, your chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling, a smile resting on your lips. You feel…at ease.
Happy.
Safe.
Buck slowly pulls away, just enough to move off your body and lay next to you. He instantly pulls you against his chest, one arm around your shoulders, cradling you against him. He sighs contentedly, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.
You rest your head against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear grounding and soothing. Your eyes slowly close, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. You snuggle closer to Buck, a soft yawn escaping your lips.
Buck chuckles as he hears you yawn. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
You give a tiny hum, the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hand on your back making your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Sleep starts to overtake you, but not before you mutter out one final sentence.
“I love you, Buck.”
Buck’s heart warms at your words. He pulls you even closer to him, relishing the feeling of having you this close. He presses a kiss to the top of your head again, his voice soft and gentle as he speaks.
“I love you too, (y/n). More than anything.”
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woniedarlin · 2 months ago
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Sick Days and Sweet Gestures
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pairing: Academic rival! Jungwon x reader
synopsis: Jungwon never thought he’d care about you, his rival. But when you miss class with a cold, he ends up at your door because apparently, even rivals need checking on.
author's note: Hello, my precious darlings! It’s been a while since I’ve posted. I recently caught a nasty cold from the stress of academics, but while I was lying in bed, I suddenly had an idea and thought, why not write this out? So here we are! This is also a little celebration of my first-ever academic rivals story that I posted back in April. Happy reading!
warning: This story contains cursing and some strong language.
ccaution: Proceed cautiously if you’re not a fan of rival-to-possible-lovers dynamics. Read at your own risk of falling for a rival.
permanent taglist: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n
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The classroom felt unusually quiet without you.
Jungwon sat at his usual desk, glancing toward the empty seat across the room where you were always found: chin up, pencil poised, ready to challenge him at every turn. His brow furrowed as the professor started the lesson.
You had never missed a day of class. Not once.
The two of you have been competing for the top spot for years. Every test, every presentation, and every debate turned into a competition. He has always respected your determination, even if you made his blood boil with your smug little grins whenever you beat him.
But today was different. There was no sharp retort to his answers, no quiet hum of agreement when he got something right, no shared glares across the room—just silence.
And it didn’t sit right with him.
Jungwon glanced up from his notes, eyes fixating on your empty seat again. Your desk was unusually bare, with no notebooks or pencils in sight. He couldn't help but wonder where you were
Usually, he'd be relishing in the advantage your absence put him at, but today... he wasn't so sure.
The professor's voice drifted in the background as his gaze flicked back and forth between his notes and your empty seat. He chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating.
By the time class ended, Jungwon was restless. His bag slung over his shoulder, he lingered near the door as other students filtered out. He overheard a whisper:
“She’s sick, apparently. Someone said they saw her at the nurse’s office yesterday…”
Sick? You? Impossible. You were never sick, always attending classes and excelling at everything. But if you were ill enough to be at the nurse's office... maybe it was severe. He frowned at the thought of it.
...He shouldn't care.
Before he could think it through, his feet were already moving, carrying him toward the nurse’s office. But it was empty. After some hesitant questions and a little persistence, he found out you had gone home early the day before.
And now, here he was.
Standing in front of your house, Jungwon felt uncharacteristically awkward. His hand hovered over the doorbell for a moment before he pressed it.
The sound of footsteps approached, and then the door opened to reveal a frazzled-looking version of you. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair a little messy, and you wore an oversized hoodie. You looked like you hadn’t left bed in hours.
“Jungwon?” you croaked, your voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”
"Oh, uh... I just..." He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling ridiculous for worrying about you. Since when was he concerned about your wellbeing? This was weird. Very weird.
He blinked, suddenly realizing how odd this must look. “You didn’t come to class,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Obviously?” you raised an eyebrow. Despite your state, you couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic tone. “Why are you here?’’ you asked again. Surprised, you never expect to see him out of all people.
He let out a huff, already feeling annoyed by your usual behavior. Typical. Even while you were sick, you still dared to be sarcastic.
He decided to cut to the chase. “You look terrible.”
You scoffed, ‘’Real nice, asshole.’’
“I call it as I see it,” he retorted, his gaze softened almost imperceptibly as he took in your state.
“You don’t usually miss school, and it’s weird as hell, okay? You’re always there. It’s not normal for you to miss.”
Your expression softened slightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I just caught a cold,” you said, stepping back to let him in. “Nothing dramatic. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
His eyes narrowed at your dismissal of his concern. He definitely did not let himself feel relieved that it was just a cold. Definitely not.
Jungwon entered your space and felt a bit out of place. Your books piled up messily on the desk by the window showed that you had been working hard, even while sick.
“You shouldn’t push yourself,” he said, his tone gentler than intended. “Rest properly.”
You sat on the couch, looking at him with a faint smile. “Is that concern I hear, Jungwon? I thought you’d celebrate having one less competitor for a day.”
“I think your brain’s overheating from that fever.” He leaned against the arm of the couch, ignoring the jab at his competitive nature. “Just take it easy. Don’t come to school if you’re not feeling better by tomorrow.”
He scoffed, though his lips twitched into a small smile. “Please. If I wanted to win by default, I’d have given up years ago. It’s more fun when you’re there to annoy me.”
You laughed softly, the sound a little raspy but warm nonetheless. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Yeah, don’t get used to it,” he quipped, the corners of his mouth lifting into a slight smirk. “This is a one-time thing. You don’t want your ego getting bigger.”
Jungwon watched you for a moment, your eyes dimmed by exhaustion. He shifted awkwardly, then reached into his bag. “Here,” he said, pulling out a thermos. “I, uh… stopped by the tea shop. It’s ginger tea. Good for your throat.”
Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face. “You… got this for me?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, cheeks tinged pink. “Just drink the damn tea. You sound like you swallowed sandpaper.”
You took the thermos, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment. “Thanks, Jungwon,” you said softly, your voice sincere.
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Get better soon, okay? The classroom’s too quiet without you.”
Your smile widened, and for a moment, the rivalry melted away, leaving behind something much softer. “I will. Thanks for checking on me.”
“Someone had to,” he retorted, though his heart felt strangely light.
This whole situation felt surreal. He was in your living room as if he was allowed to be here and care. And he did care, he realized. A lot.
He glanced at the messy desk, papers, and books scattered haphazardly, a far cry from your usual neatness. “Your room is an ungodly mess.”
‘’I tried to study, but I am too sick.’’ You admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“Why am I not surprised?” he said, his tone dry. He leaned over, picking up a textbook from your desk. “You’re such a workaholic.”
He picked up a stack of papers, organizing them into a neater pile. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his care.
He tidied up the desk, his eyes scanning the different equations and notes.
“How are you smart enough to solve equations when you can’t even manage your health?” He quipped, the words lacking their usual bite. “You don’t have to push yourself every time.’’
‘“I’m already proud of you,” he said, slipping the words out unexpectedly.
Your eyes widened, ‘’Oh..’’
His eyes widened as well when he realized what he had just said.
He froze, the papers in his hands forgotten. Had he just admitted, out loud, that he was proud of you? Shit.
He quickly turned away, busying himself with more organizing to avoid meeting your gaze. His mind was racing. He couldn’t believe what he’d accidentally let slip. That’s not the kind of thing rivals say to each other.
He could practically hear the gears in your head whirring, probably plotting some witty comeback about his unexpected admission-
‘’Thank you.’’
He looked back in surprise, expecting to see mockery or a smirk, but instead, he found sincere gratitude in your eyes.
That wasn’t the response he was expecting. A lump formed in his throat, making it hard to swallow.
He gave a stern nod, trying to act nonchalant. Damn, his heart for hammering like this. “Well, I should go. Don’t want you spreading your germs.”
“Sure,” you teased, your voice lighter now. “Wouldn’t want to infect my biggest competition.”
He smirked at that, the tension from his confession easing slightly. This was familiar, this banter. This, he could do.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he quipped, picking up his bag.
He paused at the door, turning to look at you again. “Drink the tea and rest, okay? I’m not cleaning up your mess again if you get worse.”
He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. “Get well soon, rival.”
And as he left, you couldn’t help but smile at yourself; he isn’t that bad after all.
🍯
The following day, you walked into class feeling refreshed and ready, though a little wary of the questions you would face after your unexpected absence.
Jungwon’s reaction, however, wasn’t one you’d prepared for.
When you sat down, he turned to you, his brows furrowed as if he were still trying to process something. “You’re here,” he said flatly, like he didn’t quite believe it.
You raised an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were sick,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “People don’t just bounce back like that. You’re sure you’re not pushing it?”
His concern caught you off guard, and your usual witty retort faltered. “I’m fine, Jungwon. Thanks for checking, though.”
He didn’t seem entirely convinced but nodded anyway, returning to his notebook. Yet, throughout the class, you caught him sneaking glances your way.
When the bell rang for lunch, Jungwon lingered by your desk, hands tucked casually in his pockets. You glanced up, puzzled. “What? Did I leave my notes uncovered or something?”
He rolled his eyes, though there was no real bite in it. “No. Actually… Are you free after class today?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Why?”
Jungwon hesitated as if choosing his words carefully. “You know… as a favor.”
“A favor?” You repeated skeptically.
“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “You were sick, and I’ve got this… thing. It’s at the café down the street. I figured you could use the fresh air. Maybe a coffee. Or tea. You like tea, right?”
It took you a moment to realize what he was doing—this wasn’t just any “favor.” Your heart skipped a beat. “So… you need me to go to a café with you? For fresh air?”
He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant but failing miserably. “Something like that. Plus, I heard their pastries are decent.”
A smile tugged at your lips, but you played along. “Alright. But only because you seem like you need help picking out pastries.”
His lips quirked up into a small smile, “Deal. Meet me at the gates after class.” Then, he walked away…
Is he asking you out? Maybe.
Will you be interested in dating him? Let’s just say you’re already picking out which pastry to call “yours and his.”
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misswynters · 6 months ago
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Stormbound
Jacaerys Velaryon x pregnant!reader
[WARNING: pregnancy, mentions of difficult pregnancy terms, fluff
[SYNOPSIS: You were heavily pregnant as you and jace encounter a wild dragon while a storm raged on.
[NOTE: you had poor jace stressed out, we love jace being protective over the reader: also if you would like something specific, send an ask!
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"Where are they?" he muttered to himself, running a hand through his dark curls. The maesters had assured him that everything was fine, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest.
Your pregnancy had been difficult, and the tension had taken its toll on Jacaerys. He had tried to be strong for you, but the fear of losing you, or the child, was ever-present. He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you both.
Just as he was about to go in search of you again, the doors to the hall creaked open, and you stepped inside. Despite the strain of pregnancy, you carried yourself with the grace and strength he had always admired. Your hand rested protectively on your swollen belly, and your face lit up with a tired but genuine smile when you saw him.
"Jace," you said softly, your voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.
He rushed to your side, his hands immediately going to your belly. "Where have you been? I was worried sick."
You laughed lightly, the sound easing some of his tension. "I just needed some fresh air. The castle can feel so confining sometimes."
He sighed, pulling you into a gentle embrace. "You should have told me. I would have gone with you."
"I know, but you worry too much," you replied, leaning into him. "I wanted a moment to myself. Besides, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
Jacaerys pressed a kiss to your forehead, his heart swelling with love and protectiveness. "I know you are. But I can't help it. I love you too much to let anything happen to you."
You smiled up at him, your eyes filled with warmth. "And I love you, Jace. But you need to relax. Stress isn't good for either of us."
He nodded, though the worry didn't entirely leave his eyes. "Alright. Let's find somewhere quiet. I need to feel you and the baby close."
Hand in hand, you led him out of the grand hall and towards the more secluded parts of Dragonstone. The storm outside raged on, but within the castle, it felt as if the two of you were in your own world. The soft glow of torches lit your way, casting flickering shadows on the ancient stone walls.
You reached a small alcove near the courtyard, a place where you had spent many quiet moments together. Jacaerys helped you settle onto a bench, his hand never leaving yours.
"You know," you began, your voice soft and contemplative, "I sometimes wonder what it would be like to just... leave all of this behind. To take our child and live a simple life, away from the responsibilities and the danger."
Jacaerys looked at you, surprise flickering across his face. "You've never mentioned that before."
You shrugged, a wistful smile on your lips. "It's just a thought. I know we have our duties, and I wouldn't trade our life here for anything. But sometimes, it's nice to imagine a different path."
He squeezed your hand, his gaze intense and loving. "If that's what you want, we'll find a way. Your happiness means everything to me."
You shook your head, a gentle laugh escaping your lips. "No, Jace. This is our home, and we belong here. But it doesn't hurt to dream, does it?"
"No, it doesn't," he agreed, pulling you closer. "As long as we have each other, we can face anything."
For a while, you sat together in comfortable silence, listening to the distant roar of the storm and the crackle of the torches. The tension that had gripped Jacaerys slowly began to fade, replaced by a sense of peace.
But peace was a fleeting thing in times of war and unrest. As the storm continued to rage outside, a distant, echoing roar pierced the night. Jacaerys tensed, his protective instincts flaring to life. "Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice low and urgent.
You nodded, your own heart racing. "What was it?"
"Stay here," he commanded, rising to his feet. "I'll go check."
"No," you protested, grabbing his arm. "I'm coming with you."
"___, you're pregnant," he began, but the look in your eyes silenced him. "Alright. But stay close to me."
Together, you made your way through the castle, following the eerie sound. The further you went, the louder the roar became, until you found yourselves standing at the entrance to the courtyard.
And there, in the middle of the storm, was a dragon unlike any you had ever seen. It was massive, nearly as large as Vhagar but with a wild, untamed look in its eyes. Its scales were a deep, iridescent purple, shimmering in the lightning flashes.
"Aero," Jacaerys whispered, awe and fear in his voice. "The Catastrophe."
You had heard of Aero, the wild dragon that roamed the skies near Dragonstone, but seeing it in person was an entirely different experience. The dragon's presence was overwhelming, and for a moment, you were frozen in place.
But Jacaerys didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his voice steady and calm despite the fear in his eyes. "Aero," he called out, "we mean you no harm."
The dragon turned its gaze towards you both, its eyes glowing with an almost intelligent curiosity. It took a step forward, and Jacaerys instinctively moved in front of you, shielding you with his body.
"Jace," you whispered, fear gripping your heart.
"It's alright," he said, his voice firm. "Just stay behind me."
Aero lowered its massive head, sniffing the air around you. For a moment, it seemed as if the dragon was considering whether to attack or not. But then, with a huff that sent a gust of hot air over you both, Aero turned and took to the skies, disappearing into the storm.
Jacaerys let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, turning to pull you into his arms. "Are you alright?"
You nodded, clinging to him. "Yes. That was... incredible. And terrifying."
He chuckled, though the tension hadn't entirely left his body. "That's one way to put it. I can't believe we just saw Aero up close."
You leaned into him, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. "We should get back inside. The maesters will have our heads if they find out we were out here."
He nodded, but didn't move to leave. Instead, he held you close, his hand resting on your belly. "I'm so glad you're safe," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.
You kissed him gently, your heart full of love for this brave, protective man. "I am. Thanks to you."
As you made your way back inside, the storm began to die down, leaving a sense of calm in its wake. Jacaerys was still tense, but the fear had been replaced by a fierce determination to protect you and your unborn child. Later that night, as you lay in bed, Jacaerys held you close, his hand never leaving your belly. The events of the evening had only strengthened his resolve to keep you safe, no matter what.
"___," he murmured, his voice soft in the darkness. "I promise you, I will always protect you and our babe. No matter what it takes."
You smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I know you will, Jace. You will be a fine father."
In the quiet of the night, with the storm finally gone, you both drifted off to sleep, your hearts full of love and hope for the future.
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taglist: @benjicotblckwood
banner by: @cafekitsune
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incognit0slut · 6 months ago
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PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3| PART 4
Behind Closed Doors 4
Your frustration over his broken promise melts away as soon as he calls, and you find yourself unexpectedly drawn to his voice, more than you anticipated.
Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Phone sex, mutual (and guided) masturbation, dirty talk ~4.7k words
A/n: this is just me wishing he was on quinn😔 anyway enjoy part 4, this mini series is not dead (i don’t even know how long it will be but let’s just celebrate that I’m finally updating)
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All men do is lie, you thought as you flopped onto your bed.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault—but you weren’t in the mood to be reasonable. You remembered that car ride vividly. He had promised you more time together, a moment to finally be alone. Instead, what did you get? A new case, then another, and amidst all the chaos and dodging bullets (literally and metaphorically), you two somehow managed to drift apart.
The past few weeks had been the busiest since you started working at the BAU, and that was saying a lot, considering there was never really a moment of peace when you worked for the government. But this time was different, it seemed even more chaotic than usual. Every time you thought of bringing up the conversation with him—or maybe sneak in a little make-out session—something urgent would come up. 
There was never the right time, or the right moment. It felt as if the universe had other plans for you, and none of them involved the two of you getting a moment alone. And before you knew it, you were caught in this maddening cycle of missed opportunities, and the worst thing was, you were sexually frustrated.
This time, you had no one else to blame but him. Ever since he came into the picture, your carefully maintained self-control had started to slip, and now, despite your best efforts, you couldn’t ignore the growing need between your legs. It was aching, throbbing, and even the thought of him was making you hot and restless.
How did he manage to do that? He wasn’t even trying. There was nothing overtly seductive in the way he moved or spoke, and yet every glance, every accidental touch, seemed to affect you. Spencer. Just his name made your breath hitch, your body betraying you. You weren’t proud to admit this, but the mere thought of his fingers brushing your skin had you feeling that first rush of arousal slipping into your panties.
You huffed, considering digging out your pink silicone toy hidden somewhere in your drawer. And while you were contemplating this, knowing it had been a while since you last used it because nothing could compare to the feeling of his touch now, your phone on the bedside table rang.
Maybe the universe was really testing you, because his name flashed across the screen and it took a lot of self-control for you not to pick up on the first ring and demand him to fuck you right there and then, which sounded too crass when you weren’t in the middle of straddling his lap like the last time. So instead, you decided to wait until the sixth ring before you answered with a curt, “Hey.”
There was a pause, then a sigh. “You’re mad at me.”
Could he tell? Of course, he could. He always had an uncanny ability to read you, even over the phone. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“I can almost see you rolling your eyes.”
“I never roll my eyes,” you shot back.
“You rolled your eyes last week when Luke tried to tell us that his dog could sniff out bodies better than our trained ones.”
You suppressed a smile, surprised that he even noticed you giving Luke a once-over at that particular moment. “That was because his dog chases its tail more than it chases leads.”
"And I'm not worthy of an eye roll?"
“Honestly, you deserve more than an eye roll,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
"So you are mad,” he stated, growing quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.”
And now you felt bad. You ran a hand through your hair, trying to clear your thoughts. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less better.”
You felt a pang of guilt as you stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly fair to blame him. Serial killers, unfortunately, didn’t come with a schedule, and now Spencer was already on his leave. You recalled the excitement in his voice when he told you about the seminars Emily had arranged for him to teach. He had spoken with an enthusiasm you hadn’t heard in a long time, his eyes practically lighting up every time he mentioned it.
How could you be upset about that?
"I'm not... mad.”
There was a slight teasing note in his voice as he replied, "Just annoyed then?"
You held back a smile. "Maybe a little."
“Anything I can do to help with that?” His voice softened through the phone. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Your thoughts immediately went to the sticky situation between your legs, and you felt a flush of embarrassment. Technically, he could help with that. But could you say that? Should you? 
"I don’t know, depends on what you have in mind,” you replied, trying to steer your mind away from the direction it was heading. There was a pause, a silence that hung in the air as he carefully considered his next words.
"I could… start by telling you how much I miss you?”
Now that, you didn’t expect. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Spencer had never really acknowledged his feelings with words when his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it out loud made the emotions between you feel undeniably real. It was as if his words shattered whatever platonic friendship the two of you had built over the past years.
Although you knew your friendship had fundamentally changed the moment he had you pinned on the desk that fine afternoon, it didn’t stop you from questioning about where you truly stood.
"You miss the idea of me," you corrected him, unable to resist yourself.
“You know that’s not true,” he replied gently.
“Do I?”
“Yes, you know me better than that,” he insisted. “You’re a great profiler, you can tell if I’m not being honest.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, despite trying to stay mad at him. "You hate being profiled.”
"That was before I realized how useful your skills are in deciphering my feelings.”
“You know I’d rather you tell me how you feel.”
“I did, I miss you, and you chose not to believe me.”
Your cheeks actually ached from smiling too much. You couldn’t help but feel a warm, tingling sensation spread through you. “Fine,” you sighed, finally giving in. “I believe you.”
“And?”
You rolled onto your side. “And what?”
“Do you not miss my absence at work?”
“Well…”
“Well?” He prompted.
Now how could you tell him you missed more than just his presence? How could you admit that you missed the way he made you feel, the way his breath felt hot against your skin, without sounding obvious or too needy? Because you missed everything about him. His hands, his lips, his tongue—oh dear god, his tongue.
Spencer suddenly called out your name, and you forced yourself to focus, feeling your heartbeat quicken as you cleared your throat.
“Yes, I—I miss you,” you finally admitted.
There was a pause, then his voice came through, lighter, teasing. “Why do you sound like that?”
“…like what?”
“Like you’re out of breath.”
You gripped the sheets tightly, the fabric bunching under your fingers. How could you even begin to explain this to him now that he was onto you? You felt like you were on the verge of a full-blown emotional meltdown. God, if he knew how many times you’d replayed every kiss, every touch, in your mind, he’d never let you live it down.
It was almost laughable, really. Here you were, trying to keep it together, and failing miserably. “It’s just… I really, really miss you.”
“You really miss me? Are you trying to say something?”
You hesitated, your mind scrambling for the right words without revealing too much. “No…?”
“Mhm,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. “You’re not telling me everything.”
You gripped the phone tighter. “I’m just saying... It's hard without you here. You know, in every way.”
“In every way?”
You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling both embarrassed and mortified. “I just... I miss how you make me feel. Physically.”
“Physically?” he pressed. “Can you elaborate?”
“I’m... you know, I’ve been... missing certain things. Certain... activities.”
“Certain activities,” he repeated your words once again. It was then that you realized he was teasing you, clearly enjoying your discomfort a little too much. “You mean like... talking?”
“No. More like... the other stuff we do when we’re alone.”
"I don't understand."
At that point, your embarrassment was gnawing at you. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. “God, Spencer, don’t make me say it,” you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.
“Come on, I need a little more than that.” He sounded both amused and curious. “I’m just making sure I understand you right.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you muttered into the pillow, your voice muffled but still clear enough for him to hear.
“Actually, I don’t think I do. You could be missing so many things, you have to help me out here.”
You turned your head to the side, exasperation coloring your tone. “Spencer…”
"Yes?" he responded innocently.
"You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
"I find precise communication to be very important.”
You let out a groan, feeling the last of your restraint crumble. “Alright! Fine!” you snapped. “I’m horny, okay? And it’s all your fault!”
His laughter rang through the phone, and you could almost see the grin spreading across his face. “My fault?"
"Yes! I feel like a deprived, horny teenager here, and I just…”
You trailed off, hardly believing you had actually said that out loud. The realization hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you wished you could take it back. There was a pause that seemed to stretch on forever and you wondered if you had gone too far.
He finally broke the silence, breathing out your name in a way that made your skin tingle. "You could've told me from the start."
You could, but you’d rather not.
"I didn't want to sound desperate."
"You can be desperate with me,” he said softly. “Just say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”
If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was getting under your skin. He really shouldn’t be saying those words, not now, not when it was making you crave him even more. You swallowed, feeling a tightness in your chest, a knot in your stomach. The part of you that always played it safe wanted to retract, to laugh it off as a joke. But then there was that other part, the part that craved his attention, the part that was tired of holding back.
“Tell me, what do you want now?”
You took a deep breath and laid on your back, the words catching in your throat. You felt your pulse quicken.
“I want… you.”
“Tell me how you want me.”
Your fingers trailed over the sheets, your touch light as you imagined it was him beneath your fingertips. “Spencer…”
“Come on,” he pressed. “Tell me.”
You paused, your heart pounding in your chest. You could almost imagine him right in front of you, staring at you with those beautiful brown eyes that always managed to make you melt, coaxing words from you that you barely dared to think, let alone speak.
Just say it. He's waiting. He wants to hear it.
Your hand began to move.
“I… I want your hands on me.”
“Where do you want my hands?”
“Everywhere,” you whispered, your fingers grazing your body as if they were his. You closed your eyes.
“Everywhere?”
You found yourself nodding even though he couldn’t see you.
“On my hips…”
Your hand danced across your hips.
“My stomach…”
Your palm slipped under your shirt, moving slowly up your abdomen, feeling the warmth of your own touch and wishing it was his.
“Between my thighs…”
You paused at the hem of your panties, the only barrier beneath your shirt, hesitating as a flush of warmth spread through you. The line was silent for a moment, save for the sound of his breathing—a soft, heavy rhythm that matched the pounding of your own heart.
“Where else do you want me?”
Your fingers dipped inside the fabric. “I want you lower…”
“Tell me exactly where.”
“Where I’m most sensitive,” you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.  Your thighs instinctively squeezed together, hips rolling gently as your free hand began to drift south. “Spencer… please…”
“Are you touching yourself?”
“I…”
“Are you?”
“No…”
“Do you want to touch yourself?”
You licked your lips, your breath coming faster. “Maybe.”
“Then do it, no one’s stopping you.”
You hesitated, the reality of the situation sinking in. You couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were having this conversation with him. "This feels so naughty.”
"Naughty can be nice, though, right?" he assured you. "Don't think about it too much. It’s just you and me.”
There really was something about his voice, the way it effortlessly wrapped around you—smooth, coaxing, almost hypnotic. Despite the hesitation that tugged at your mind, your hand began to move lower, and your legs parting involuntarily. A soft gasp escaped your lips when your hand flew right to your pussy, fingers quickly tracing the length of your folds. You were already wet, and you began to spread your arousal towards your clit.
“Spencer…” you whined, feeling the sudden rush of sensations.
“Keep going,” he urged. “Tell me what you feel.”
You closed your eyes. “It feels… good…”
“Describe it to me.”
You took a shaky breath, trying to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “It’s warm and wet… and…”
And you wished he was the one touching you.
You let your mind drift to your fantasy. You imagined it was his fingers circling your clit. You imagined his lips against yours, the way they would move together. You imagined him whispering these words right in front of you, his eyes locked on yours as you writhed beneath him. The fantasy felt so vivid that for a moment, you could almost feel his weight pressing down on you, his presence enveloping you completely.
Your imagination urged you to move faster, but you felt limited by the fabric in the way. You called out his name. “Can I… can I take my, um, underwear off?”
You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “Of course you can.”
You put your phone down, and with trembling fingers, you slid the fabric down your legs. You discarded them quickly and turned the call to speaker before you settled back on the bed. Your hand returned to your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin. You parted your legs even wider, and as your fingers found their rhythm, a moan escaped you.
“Better?”
You sighed in relief as you continued to rub your clit. “So much better.”
“Keep it slow, okay? We don’t want to rush.”
His voice was low and soothing, and you couldn’t believe how just by his voice he had gotten you so worked up.
“Now press a little harder.” You complied, applying a bit more pressure on your clit. "Right there. Do you feel that?"
"Yes," you gasped, your back slightly arching off the bed.
“I wish I could see you right now," he murmured. “I'd kiss you where you're touching.”
You let your imagination take over. You pictured him with his head right between your thighs, his eyes locked on yours with those intense, pretty eyes. You imagined his mouth moving over your clit, sucking gently while his fingers explored between your folds. The thought was so vivid, so real, that you could almost feel his warm breath against your skin.
The mental image of him looking up at you was almost too much to bear. “Spencer…”
"Keep going. Are your fingers wet?" You could simply moan back a reply, not trusting your own voice. “Now slowly slide in one. Can you do that for me?”
You did as he said, sliding a finger into your wetness. You could feel how tight you were, the slick warmth of your arousal enveloping your skin. You looked down between your legs and watched as you pleased yourself. It wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sight. You had done this countless times before, but never with the voice of a man guiding you, especially Spencer—the last person you’d imagine doing this with.
Yet look at how much effect he had on you.
"You're quiet," his voice suddenly came through. "Are you still with me?"
"Yes," you managed to whisper. "It's just... a lot."
"In a good way, I hope?"
“Very good,” you assured him.
You could practically picture the corner of his lips twitching into a proud smile. “Good,” he recited. “Now try adding another finger.”
You couldn't help a moan escaping your lips as you pushed in your middle finger, the sound louder than you intended.
"How does that feel?"
"Full," you breathed out, adjusting to the sensation.
“Yeah? I bet you’re so tight.”
You were, awfully so. Your walls clenched around your fingers, almost swallowing them as you started to move them in a steady rhythm. The pleasure built in your lower stomach, a warm, coiling tension that made you desperate for more. You needed his voice, you craved his guidance, even from afar.
“Spence…” you whined. “Keep talking, please.”
“You want me to describe how I’d touch you if I were there?”
You moaned in response, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily, urging him to continue.
“If I were there,” he began, his voice low, “I’d start by kissing you slowly.”
You could almost feel it, his lips on yours, his tongue probing inside your mouth.
“I’d move lower,” he continued. “Kiss your neck, your collarbone… while my fingers would move along your hips, your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you need me most.”
You whimpered, your fingers moving faster as you followed his vivid description, imagining his touch guiding you.
“I’d tease you, brush my fingers right at your entrance,” he whispered. “Then, I’d slip them inside you, just like you’re doing now.”
Your breaths came in short gasps.
“I’d spread your legs wide,” he continued again, and you heard a faint rustling noise in the background. “I’d move my fingers in… and… out...”
Your legs fell further apart.
“I’d curl my fingers the same way I did that day,” he went on. “Do you remember?”
How could you not? It never truly left your mind. You could picture that day clearly, the feeling of his fingers and mouth working on your sensitive spot seemed to linger in your memory.
“I’d do the same thing that you like,” he proceeded, and you focused on his voice. “I’d lean in close… licking you… sucking you.”
You moaned loudly as the image of his mouth on your clit flashed through your mind. You could almost feel the way he would sloppily lap at you, drinking in every drop of your arousal with each eager flick of his tongue.
“Go faster for me,” he urged. “I-I want to hear how wet you are.”
You followed his words, and the slick sounds of your arousal filled the quiet around you as you imagined him there, his fingers replacing yours. You could hear more noise through the line, the subtle rustle of clothes moving, the faint sound of his breathing growing heavier before he let out a low grunt.
“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed out. “Now add another finger.”
Your eyes narrowed into a frown, trying to slip a third finger in but the stretch was too intense for you to continue. “I-I can’t.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Just take it slow. Try to relax.”
You took a deep breath, trying to follow his instructions. You slowly eased in another finger, feeling the awkward stretch but the initial discomfort quickly faded into a deeper pleasure, and you moaned softly.
“Oh, fuck.”
“There you go,” he encouraged. “Feel that? Feel how full you are?”
You hummed a reply.
“That’s how I want you to feel when I’m finally inside you.”
A whine left your lips. In your head, you saw him, his body poised above yours, his cock sliding smoothly into you. You imagined the slick, rhythmic motion, the way each thrust would fill you, stretching you, overwhelming you. You cried out a filthy moan at the thought, unabashed and desperate, as you began to pump your fingers inside your cunt.
“Push deeper for me… I know you can take it.”
You gasped, pushing your fingers as deep as they could go. “I can’t… I need… oh…”
“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You need more. You need me inside you, don’t you?”
“Spencer, please…” you begged, your voice breaking into desperate, choked sobs.
“You want that? You want to feel me stretch you?”
“Yes, yes…” you managed to moan out, your movements became more desperate.
“God, you’d be so tight around me… I’d have your legs spread wide so I… I-I could see how perfect you’d take me.”
You could almost feel his hands on your hips, his body pressing against yours, filling you completely. Your fingers moved frantically, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you felt the tension building to an unbearable peak.
“You’d pull me closer, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for more, like you always do, and I’d give it to you,” he promised. “I’d give it to you so hard… s-so deep…”
And that was when you heard it—the unmistakable sound of wetness, like skin sliding over slick, damp skin. The sound was filthy, making your pulse race as you wondered what he might be doing on the other end of the line. Your voice trembled as you slowly asked him, “Spence, are you…?”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end before he let out a soft, almost sheepish laugh, as if you had caught him red-handed. “I… yeah,” he admitted, his voice breathless and strained. "Do you know how hard it is not to when listening to your voice?"
Your fingers subconsciously quickened at his confession, their movements becoming more urgent as you imagined him laying on his own bed, hand wrapped around his cock. You bit your lip to stifle your moans as you whispered, “Tell me what you’re doing.”
His breathing grew ragged, his words coming in clipped bursts. “I’m… I’m touching myself…”
You tried to focus on his voice, but the sound of his sloppy strokes began to echo louder. “Tell me more.”
“I’m… I’m rubbing… my fingers over the head,” he gasped, and you curled your fingers deeper, using your palm to grind against your clit. The way he sounded so lost in his pleasure, unable to hold back, had you imagining him stroking himself. You pictured yourself doing it for him, remembering how it felt that day when you had his cock in your hand—the weight, the warmth, the way he looked at you through intense eyes.
Your breathing grew heavier, louder, and his voice cracked with a strained moan as he whispered, “Can you lower your phone?”
You fumbled with the device, bringing it closer to where your fingers worked tirelessly between your legs. “Like this?”
“God, yes,” he groaned, the sound of his strokes growing faster and more urgent. “You sound so perfect.”
You let out a soft cry, your fingers thrusting in and out of your cunt frantically as you imagined him watching you, listening to every sound you made. The wet, slick noises filled the room, so intense and filthy. You looked down to see your juices spilling over your fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you. The sheer sound of it was enough to drive him crazy.
“I—f-faster, please,” he panted into the phone. “I need you to go faster.”
Your eyes widened for a moment as the desperate plea slipped from his lips. But you didn’t have the mental space to think about it. Your focus was solely on reaching your release as you ultimately sped up your pace. Your body began to tighten up, feeling so much pressure and pleasure building up every time your fingertips hit that deep spot inside you.
"Oh—fuck!” You exhaled sharply as the familiar sensation took over you. “I’m cumming I’m cumming I’m cumming—”
With a cry that was both a sob and a shout, your pussy fluttered around your fingers. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning, sending shockwaves of intense pleasure through your body as you gasped and shuddered. Your voice escaped in broken moans and whines, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.
“Spencer… oh, God, Spencer…”
The sound of your climax drove him to his own release. His breath hitched, his movements faltering as he let out a harsh sound from his throat. It was raw and unrestrained, downright filthy, and you listened intently, your fingers slipping out only to circle and rub your clit, drawing out the final waves of your orgasm.
Finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand fell away, and you lay there, breathing heavily, your body relaxing into the bed. Your room was quiet afterward, the only sound coming from was the sound of your own breathing. Then you heard him calling out your name, checking in. But through the post-orgasmic bliss, all you could manage in response was a giggle.
“You’re… laughing?” He mused. “Should I be concerned?”
“No, no,” you replied, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile spreading across your face. “It’s just… I can’t believe we did that.”
A gentle laugh escaped his lips, a warm, soothing sound that calmed your racing heart. "Did you like it?"
You liked it a lot. "Can’t say that I didn’t.”
"So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"
You let out a soft, contented sigh. “I wasn’t even that mad to begin with. Just… frustrated,” you confessed. “But I think we handled that pretty well.”
“Maybe a little too well,” he agreed softly. “I can't believe I need to take a shower this late.”
You looked down between your legs at his words, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you noticed the patch of wetness on your bed. It wasn't small—it spread across the fabric in a noticeable, damp stain. “Uh, yeah,” you admitted with a nervous laugh. “I also need to change my sheets.”
Then you heard a low, almost pained groan from his end of the line.
“What?”
“It’s just…” He paused, and you could almost hear him struggling to find the right words. "I'm now picturing you on your bed."
"Isn't that what you've been doing?"
"Well, yes, but now it's… different."
You couldn't help the amused grin that spread across your face. "Different how?"
"Let's just say the image in my mind is a lot more detailed now and it's not helping me calm down."
A burst of laughter erupted from your chest as you gripped your phone closer to you. “Is this your way of blaming me because you still have a hard-on?” you taunted. “I mean, I’m simply stating the facts.”
“But you’re painting a picture in my head.”
“Of me drenching the sheets just by hearing your voice?”
He made a low, strained sound. “Stop.”
“I can send you a picture if you like,” you offered slyly. “Help you visualize it better.”
There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before he finally muttered, “You shouldn’t.”
“You’re right, I shouldn’t.”
“But if you insist…”
You laughed softly. “Good night, Spencer.”
“Wait—You’re hanging up?”
“Yep,” you said cheerfully. “I thought you needed a shower.”
He made another frustrated sound, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, before reluctantly agreeing. “Fine, fine. Good night.”
And that was it. You ended the call with a satisfied smile. But as you stared at your phone, a rush of thoughts began to swirl through your mind. You were well aware of the potential risks of what you were about to do—how it could be traced back to you. You could almost hear Penelope lecturing you about online security and the dangers of leaving a digital footprint.
But when your mind kept circling back to Spencer—Spencer’s breathless voice, Spencer’s prominent veins on his hands, Spencer with a freaking hard-on in his bed—it was hard to think rationally. Before you could stop yourself, you propped your phone on your pillow and posed for the camera. Legs spread wide, your nipples pressing against your shirt, a flirtatious smile playing on your lips. The shot looked like it came out of a porno movie. You quickly sent it to him.
It took exactly 7 seconds before your phone rang again.
“Yes, Spencer?” you answered, trying to sound innocent.
You heard shuffling and a muffled grunt, and then, faintly, the rustling of fabric. It sounded like he was fumbling with his phone, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the frustration in his voice.
“How do I turn this into video call again?”
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roosterforme · 1 year ago
Text
Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself
Length: 4700 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger
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Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.
His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.
There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time. 
Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh. 
Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.
Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret. 
It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him. 
Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.
Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.
He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated. 
There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.
Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.
This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.
"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.
My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?
This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up. 
He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.
I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.
"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message. 
Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.
Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.
Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way. 
Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface. 
Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?
Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.
Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number. 
Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.
I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.
On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip. 
Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.
Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice. 
And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.
Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?
He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.
That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?
He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later. 
Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush. 
"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be. 
He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten. 
What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.
It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.
Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?
"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.
No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.
He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin. 
When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning. 
Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone. 
"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.
How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?
Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.
Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?
"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.
Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.
Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.
Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?
Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.
My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?
Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her. 
He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.
Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.
Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.
He texted you back.
Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.
With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.
CALL FROM Pretty Girl
Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."
A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"
He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"
When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."
Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him. 
"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."
Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."
Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"
Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"
"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."
"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."
Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."
If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"
"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"
Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."
Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."
He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."
You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."
"Just okay?"
"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."
Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."
"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."
"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"
He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open. 
"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself. 
"Totally naked."
"Fuck."
"Send me another one?"
"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on. 
Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.
"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."
He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"
The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."
A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."
You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."
Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."
You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."
"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."
"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."
"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.
"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"
"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."
Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"
"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."
--------------------------
It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."
Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"
You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face. 
"Yeah. It's Rooster."
Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."
"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.
You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache. 
And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar. 
You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit. 
You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.  
As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.
Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.
"Pretty Girl."
Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.
And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest. 
When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."
Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck. 
"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."
"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.
"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."
You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."
He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."
-------------------------
I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
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evie-sturns · 7 months ago
Text
teach me - Chris Sturniolo
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summary: you find out you’re bestfriend chris is a total virgin, and has never touched himself, you offer to teach him everything
contains: nsfw, sub!chris, virginity loss, inexperienced!chris, handjob, fluff.
——————————————————————————
chris and i have been friends for years, i met him in middle school when we were placed in the same class.
we tell eachother most things, but a topic that never gets brought up often between us is our personal sex life, obviously he makes dirty jokes every hour of the day but that’s about it.
i sit on the couch with chris as we yap about useless topics,
suddenly he goes dead silent.
“chris?” i question, inspecting his blank face. he shakes his head before speaking,
“what.” he mutters, my eyebrows furrow from the very unexpected change in attitude.
“what happened with you?” i ask, scooting closer to him on the couch and tracing my fingers over his knuckles.
“i can tell you anything right?” he whispers, my heart rate starts to subtly pick up.
“yes- of course!” i state with a nervous laugh.
he hesitates for a moment, his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.
“i’m like, really frustrated.” he says with no other context,
“frustrated? did i say something-“ i fidget with his hand.
“no! like… sexually frustrated-“ he says barely above a whisper.
my cheeks flush, that’s the first time chris has mentioned anything sexually involving him.
“oh? when was the last time you fucked a girl.” i ask calmly, he buries his face into his palms with a small groan
“never.” he whines quietly.
“what?”
“never!” he repeats slightly louder.
“you’re a virgin?” i ask, he nods shyly.
“you’re the most- i mean i just didn’t expect that-“ i ramble, trying to make him feel better.
“i’m honestly coming up on 21 and i’ve never done anything it’s so annoying.” chris speaks up.
“i get it, just do stuff with yourself.” i sigh,
“i don’t know how to..” he groans,
“you don’t know how to do what?” i ask,
“touch myself? i don’t fucking know-“ he says.
a small laugh escapes my lips, “you are literally the most horny man i know, how have you gone a solid 20 years without touching yourself.”
“i’ve never had a need to, but these past few months have been.. different” he laughs,
“jesus chris, i understand why you’re frustrated now.” i scoff,
he nods with a grin, a silence filling the living room.
he avoids eye contact before opening his mouth, “you’re like.. the only person who knows about that.”
i nod, “thank you for telling me chris.”
“so- you genuinely don’t know how to touch yourself?” i repeat,
“i mean i know how to but i’ve never tried- i did try once but i don’t think i did it right cause it didn’t feel good.” he sighs.
“i can teach you.” i blurt out, almost cutting him off. i clasp a hand over my mouth before spinning around.
he goes quiet, almost contemplating his decision.
“would you?- teach me..?” he whispers,
“i- i mean i guess” i reply,
how the fuck is this happening.
chris’s chest rises and falls more dramatically now, he runs a hand through his long silky hair.
i stand up off the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging him up.
i pull him down the corridor into his bedroom, “god what are the chances of you, chris sturniolo, being a total virgin?” i say in disbelief, his cheeks go red with a small laugh.
i sit him down on the edge of his bed, “we’re really doing this?” he asks,
“it’ll just be- normal, just a one time thing. i mean it’s a positive thing and you’ll finally be able to do stuff with yourself!” i smile,
“o-okay you can just tell me everything i need to do.” he breathes,
“let’s start by getting these off you.” i say crouching down next to the edge of the bed and tugging his sweatpants down his legs.
“you might wanna take your shirt off, you’ll get hot.” i tell him,
he complies, discarding his shirt onto the pile of pillows at the other end of the bed.
he sits in just his boxers.
i take in a deep breath before harshly pulling my shirt off my body, exposing my completely bare chest.
i mean, i had to get him hard at some point?
a small “woah” escapes his raw lips as he shamelessly stares
“woah is crazy.” i mock him, earning a small giggle from him.
i push him further back onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard.
i sit down and straddle his thighs, looking down at him slightly.
“okay, can i take these off?” i ask, tugging at the hem of his black boxers, which have a large tent in them.
“yeah- go for it-“ he sighs with an excited grin.
i tug them down, his erection springing out and resting against his stomach.
“oh my god chris!” i state without thinking,
“is it bad?” he instantly replies with,
“no- no just big.” i whisper,
i take his length into my hand, just holding it up right.
he sighs deeply,
i almost forget i’m meant to be teaching him.
“right, so give me your hand.” i say, grabbing his hand
i spit into the palm of his hand, “oh-“ he breathes,
“sorry.” i giggle,
i grab his wrist and guide his hand to his cock.
“what i want you to do first is just rub that spit all over it f’me.” i say, looking into chris’s eyes.
he wraps his hand around his dick, before stroking it slowly up and down.
“there we go, just like that.” i nod, he watches his hand intently as it runs up and down his length.
i adjust my position on his thighs before holding the outside of his hand, and taking it off his dick.
i just hold the outside of his hand now, moving it wherever i want it.
“i only need your thumb right now.” i whisper, he nods, curling all his other fingers.
i hold his thumb and brush it over his raw tip, a small gasp escapes his mouth.
“just keep rubbing that for me.” i instruct him softly,
he nods frantically as he continues to do exactly that.
i guide his thumb into his slit, a pathetic gasp escapes his lips, “oh my god!” his voice raises a couple octaves.
“good boy, you’re doing really well.” i praise him, which he responds very well to,
i hear several loud whimpers fall from his lips, along with his hips lifting slightly off the bed.
“now give me your other hand.” i say, prying his hand away from the sheets.
i place it on the lower portion of his dick, and guide it up and down.
i squeeze his hand slightly around his dick, his mouth falling open.
“i- i need to stop its getting too much!” he protests with tears pooling in his eyes,
“no sweetheart, that just means you’re about to finish, which will feel really nice, okay?” i assure him,
“fuck-! yes-“ he squeezes out, bucking his hips up into his hands.
his eyes are squinted open slightly, still directly staring at my tits.
i take my hand off the outside of his, and reach it down to cup his balls.
that seems to tip him over the edge.
“pleasepleasepleaseplease”
he rambles, throwing his head back against the headboard before spurts of white land on his stomach and chest.
“good, so so good, keep running your hand up and down and ride it out.” i instruct him, which he does.
he slowly takes his hands away, letting them fall limp onto the sheets as he’s completely silent.
“that- that felt incredible y/n.” he pants in shock,
“how did i go 20 years without ever doing that? jesus.” he covers his flushed face with his hands.
“you did so well.” i assure him, he lets out a soft whine.
i laugh lightly, “you respond well to words like that” i say under my breath.
“mmhm.” he agrees, “that shit did something to me.”
i reach over and tug on my shirt, he lays still on the bed,
streaks of white still lay across his torso.
“oh- hold on.” i say, grabbing his shirt and starting to gently clean him up.
i tug up his boxers and sweatpants, he sighs deeply before flopping down on the bed.
“thank you- so much.” he sighs,
“do you want me to.. maybe teach you more tomorrow?” i ask boldly,
his eyes almost light up, “shit, please do.” he laughs.
—-
tags:
@downbad4reid @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos
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