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nouvxllev · 4 months

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the girl across your street || p3

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were only someone she met in her neighborhood, and she became someone unreachable. You were someone she only knew for half a year, and yet, the countless smiles she’d give you when you were around, the moments she looked you in the eyes where you thought you finally meant something to her, the times she’d say you were someone special to her—those became nothing but everything. You start to ponder on who could ever truly stay with you? Maybe it’s inevitable you’d go along with your life without someone special to you, someone who cherishes you like their dying wish.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: angst, yipee!

part 4 || masterlist

You've found yourself spending a lot more time with Jenna than expected—so much so that you could almost consider yourselves roommates, having explored and learned the backstory of every picture in her living room. You knew quite a bit about Jenna, maybe not everything, but you knew her down to her music taste. Which is, maybe not a lot to some, but it was deep for you. Learning about each other's music tastes felt like exchanging wedding vows.

The two of you frequently dined at fancy restaurants or strolled through nearby supermarkets around the corner from your neighborhood. Making you wonder on where the hell is Jenna getting reservations from at the most luxurious restaurants out of town. These outings became the go-to whether you both were feeling ecstatic or just wanted to unwind after a bad day. And your meetings with eachother started occurring later in the day rather than in the early mornings.

You were slowly falling head over heals, over and over again until you went mad with her. It had reached a point where not hearing Jenna's voice or feeling her presence beside you felt wrong.

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"There's my favorite actress!" You ran towards her, a broad smile on your face that reached up to your ears. In your hands, you held a DSLR camera, not too large but not too small either.

Jenna, seated in her usual spot on the bench in front of her house, responded, "Not an actress," blocking her face with the camera you had pointed at her.

"—Yet," you grinned, "Don't you want to be in my special first video vlog?" Turning around, you gave the camera a chance to capture the changing scenery of the year, with leaves transforming into warm shades of orange and red.

You had big dreams of becoming a director, a career choice you had clung to since childhood. Piles of files filled with DVDs you had created when you were young. It didn't matter if you didn't have a deep story to tell, your videos were filled to the brim with stupid and idiotic stuff you used to do as kids and overall you were happy.

"Where'd you get that from?" Jenna asked, standing up to examine your camera's display. "Ooh… The quality's top-notch," she nodded approvingly.

"It was a very late Christmas gift from my friend I go to film school with. She saw me literally struggling with my phone, so she finally got me a camera for professionals only." You emphasized the word "professionals," feeling proud to have your very own camera instead of one borrowed from someone else.

She chuckled at your comment, "I've always wanted to film something on a camera," she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

You gently set the camera down, your heart trying to calm down due to how close she was to you.

"I… I have this project for my film class," you began, turning to face her. "We have to vlog something in our lives that we could watch a few years later in time. It's supposed to be something bittersweet, my prof would say." You laughed, hoping to gain Jenna's approval.

You noticed her eyes twinkling, her eyebrows raising in excitement, and her lips forming a big smile that revealed her dimples. Fuck, you were so in love, it was maddening.

"Then let this be the short film of a lifetime."

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The 'short film of a lifetime' became a series of short films of a life time. Capturing your daily talks and strolls with Jenna, hoping that one day, the two of you could meet up again and watch these videos, laughing to your hearts' content. It was a sweet memory you'd hopefully make, really.

The alarm failed to wake you up because you didn't even sleep. It was Jenna's 17th birthday, and being even a millisecond late was not an option. You hadn't been able to celebrate her 16th birthday since she had just moved to town weeks after that, you knew after months of talking to her. And now, you were determined to give her the best party yet.

You stepped outside in the outfit Jenna had picked for you during one of your shopping trips—a comfortable ensemble that solidified your opinion of Jenna's excellent fashion taste.

You had your gift ready for Jenna, all those months of saving up money and even starving yourself finally paid off as you bought headphones that she always wanted and was always ranting to you about how expensive it is, a pair of brand-new Sony Headphones to replace her old ones.

You turned on your DSLR camera, ready to record and all, until you looked up and see people loading boxes into a truck.

Your heart raced as you ran towards the truck, hoping against hope. 'Fuck, fuck fuck... Please, not today,' you repeated to yourself, breath ragged as you tried to calm down.

Spotting Jenna's sister Aliyah, you called out to her, "Aliyah! Aliyah, wait!"

Aliyah turned, a smile on her face. "Y/n! Hey…"

You exhaled, "Where's—Where's Jenna? Is she going back to your house for her birthday?" You set your camera down, your voice shaky as you released the gift bag you held.

"Didn't she tell you? She's going across the country; she just got cast for a character in a film!"

You dropped your camera, confusion and shock hitting you like a truck.

"What?"

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"There's my favorite actress!"

"Not an actress...

"—Yet."

The video played on and on, a retro sound mixed with sratches from the old camera you once cherished. You lay quietly down on your bed, your eyes starting to form eyebags, and the air starting to sound like a certain song you'd play when you're at your darkest times.

It's been half a decade since your last interaction with Jenna. Countless of sleepless nights, meals skipped, and relationships with others destroyed all because she moved across the country to pursue her acting career. Not once did she think to send you even a single letter, expressing how much she missed you or offering a simple greeting. But who were you to expect so much from her?

You get that she was busy, and you get that she has other matters to attend to. You knew for a fact the harsh reality of the entertainment industry demanded constant attention, and slipping up even once could mean being left behind. But a dark void in your soul could only want to ask of her a simple hi. You’ve watched Jenna through her films, her interviews, her Instagram stories, witnessing how she became a star. You were happy for her, there was no denying it, you were so happy for her she got to achieve the dream she was dying to succeed, but you couldn’t help but wish to celebrate it beside her, even for just one moment, rather from a distance like this.

You were only someone she met in her neighborhood, and she became someone unreachable. You were someone she only knew for two years, and yet, the countless smiles she’d give you when you were around, the moments she looked you in the eyes where you thought you finally meant something to her, the times she’d say you were someone special to her—those became nothing but everything. You start to ponder on who could ever truly stay with you. Maybe it’s inevitable you’d go along with your life without someone who’s special to you, someone who cherishes you like their dying wish.

When she left, your soul left with her. Now you were never the same. You never looked at things the same, walking down that street being something you’d regret, watching a film you’d think she would love could only make you breakdown into tears—missing her touch like you miss the warmth of the sun on a cold day. The world, once vibrant when Jenna entered your life, now appeared through somber lens, your simplest pleasures turned into tortures you would never wish on an empire.

You couldn’t be mad at her, no, you didn’t have the right to. How could you be so instantly attached to one person that they became your entire world? You spent your whole life creating memories you cherished with everyone around you. You had worlds to see, you had symphonies to hear from the beat of your headphones, you had comforting scents to smell whenever you walk into a familiar place, you had delicacies your mom once had made you when she was still in your life to taste, you had humans to touch—people that were close to your heart. Everything you had in the palm of your hands, taken away by a single glance from Jenna. It’s like your life suddenly meant nothing without her.

While you’re all smiles and laughs, trying to hide the fact you’re missing that one person who made you who you are now, thoughts of her still linger at night. You would find yourself after a grueling day, scrolling through the accounts Jenna had created, even reaching out to her closest friends or family members for any updates on her well-being. You still hope one day you’ll take that street yet again, reminiscing about the days when you were delighted to wake up on a cool winter morning and eagerly anticipate seeing someone, and that someone eagerly awaiting for you as well.

You sighed as you took a step on the street you were always walking on. It was already noon, and the feeling of not walking this road without the morning sun will always be so weird to you. The wind of the road reaches out to you like something of a horror film, your headphones you initially bought for Jennas birthday being the only escape to the reality you've sentenced yourself to, as if she was still there with you. If only you had known for what was about to strike you, maybe you would've confessed.

Like Jenna, you too achieved your dream job as a movie director. While you didn't work on big films, you were just happy you got to help bring stories to life, stories that Jenna often liked to read, hoping one day she'd maybe take interest in the films you directed.

As you walked, you find your eyes flickering to the bench Jenna used to sit down, a part of you wishing she would magically reappear and surprise you as if nothing had happened and it was all just a dream.

Then, someone was there—a brunette with the same hairstyle, engrossed in a book, much like the ones Jenna always loved.

"Jenna?" You called out, eyes widening.

The brunette started to stand up, book still in hand that was obscuring her face.

"Jen—! Fuck— Sorry…" You bumped into numerous people who seemed to have materialized on the street that wasn't crowded a moment ago.

“Jenna! Jenna, why didn’t you—" You extended your hand, wanting to touch her shoulder, feeling on the verge of breaking down into tears, desperate for an explanation, screaming whys and hows.

A car suddenly passed by you, the wind knocking you out of your senses.

Shit, it wasn't Jenna. It was never Jenna.

You were going insane. Why were you still grieving for something so alive, but so gone?

You were on your way to the location where your co-director, Emma Myers, had instructed the rest of the actors to shoot for your new film, Finest Kind. It was the first movie ever where you felt a bit uncertain, but you took it anyway. Emma was a friend you had made during your lowest days in film school, always there for your rants and providing a comforting presence that made you feel better about yourself.

Due to a morning that almost got you killed, you arrived 20 minutes late, earning applause from everyone when you finally reached the spot, Emma in the background shouting a rowdy 'Finally!' as the rest burst into laughter. It brought a genuine smile to your face, finally.

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You didn't know of the casting, since that was you, your technique. You enjoyed a bit of surprise in your approach to movie directing, a quirk Emma took note of, and so, everyone introduced themselves to you and the rest of the crew, forming bonds for the months ahead.

You sat in your chair with your last name written on the back, reviewing a script that the writers had printed out, it was fairly nice. You were already envisioning how you wanted it to go, and now you were standing up to take the affirmative with Emma, until, a certain voice caught your attention.

"Excuse me, could I…" A voice murmured behind you—a familiar voice you knew and loved from the very beginning. However, for some reason, your heart dropped, and you wished more than anything to erase yourself.

"Jenna?"

"Y/n."

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a/n: yikes!!

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 7 months

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Lonely This Christmas

Pairing: Billy Washington (Trigger Point) x f!reader Warnings: Dark and obsessive behaviour, stalking, smut, dubious consent. Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: On a rare occasion when her and Billy both find themselves home for Christmas at the same time, they admit they've always fancied each other. However, as things develop between them, she soon realises that for Billy it's something much more sinister than a harmless crush. Based on this request.

Author's note: For my darling @heimtathurs. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She walks up the pathway to the front door, the combination of the bitter cold and the handles of the plastic carrier bag cutting into her flesh causing her fingers to sting painfully. The cans in the bag clank noisily against each other as she jostles it from one hand to the other, raising her fist to knock at the door. Her breath comes in hot, cloudy puffs as she shifts from foot to foot, relief flooding through her as she sees the silhouette of her best friend, Lana, appear through the glass in the door.

“Let me in then!” She grumbles, pushing past and handing Lana the bag, once the door is open. “It’s bloody freezing out there!”

It’s December 23rd, and time for her and Lana’s annual tradition of Christmas Eve Eve film night - a ritual that they’ve managed to keep alive since they first met in secondary school, though as the years have passed their taste in films has matured and they can now sit and openly drink beer, instead of needing to sneak a bottle of MD 20:20 back and forth between them beneath a duvet, like they did as teenagers.

The location never changes - always at Lana’s parents’ house - even now that she’s moved out, she always comes home for two weeks over the festive period, and like clockwork the two of them sit on the sofa the evening before Christmas Eve and stare at the TV until they can no longer keep their eyes open.

She shrugs off her coat as she moves through the hallway, into the living room, the warmth from the central heating causing her skin to prickle with the pleasant rise in temperature. Rolling her eyes as she spies the DVD case for Die Hard on the coffee table, she sits heavily down on the sofa, kicking her shoes off and tucking her legs beneath her.

“We watched this last year,” she says to Lana, who follows a few paces behind, having deposited the contents of the bag into the fridge in the kitchen, “It’s not even a Christmas film!”

“It’s set at Christmas, so it’s a Christmas film,” Lana shoots back, handing her a can of Stella, before flopping down beside her and cracking open her own. “And Bruce Willis in that vest? I’m gripped.”

She snorts a laugh, opening her own beer and taking a deep sip, enjoying the way the coolness of the bitter liquid fizzes against her tongue.

“How’ve you been anyway? Your mum and dad not in?”

Lana swallows and pokes at the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Nah, they’re out for the evening, think they could use a break since face-ache moved back in. I’ve only been back here a few days and he’s already doing my head in.”

She feels her cheeks heat up at the mention of Billy. She’d met Lana’s younger brother when he’d started at the same secondary school as them and, although he was a couple of years below them, she’d always thought he was cute. He was tall, if a little on the lanky side, and his floppy blonde hair and big blue eyes instantly attracted her to him. She’d kept the fact that she fancied him to herself though, feeling it was inappropriate to lust after her best mate’s brother, especially a younger brother.

As the years had passed, Billy’s seemingly permanent cheeky smile had faded into a persistent look of misery. He’d done badly at school, left with failing grades and been rejected each time he’d tried to apply to join the army.

Meanwhile, Lana had flourished, leaving school with a handful of As and Bs. She’d enrolled at college, before enlisting in the army and from there her career in the police force had taken off. She’d moved away from home, had a place of her own and had made her parents proud.

Billy, on the other hand, had struggled with chronic unemployment, eventually falling in with an alt right group who had set him up for a potential terrorist attack. He’d barely escaped the explosion on Cranstead Gardens, and had never really pulled himself back together afterwards. His relationship with his long-term girlfriend, Becky, had broken down and he’d moved out of their flat and back in with his parents, where he’d been living for the last six months.

She hasn’t seen Billy since they left school, but Lana tells her all about him whenever they hang out or chat on the phone. She’s always felt strangely protective of him, where Lana and her parents have given Billy a hard time, she has opted for a softer touch, believing he just needs someone to understand him.

“You can’t be so hard on him,” she says, finger pinging against the ringpull of her can absentmindedly, “he’s been through a lot.”

Lana sighs, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s not paying any rent, never tidies up, isn’t bothering to look for work. We can’t help him, he won’t let us, doesn’t wanna help himself.”

“Where is he at the moment?”

“Skulking around upstairs,” Lana nods towards the staircase. “First Christmas he’s not spent at Becky’s mum’s in a long time and he’s taking it…well, I couldn’t tell you how he’s taking it, he never leaves his bloody room.”

She nods sadly, letting the topic go as they settle back into the sofa cushions as the opening credits for Die Hard begin to roll.

“I’m empty,” Lana says around twenty minutes into the film, shaking her beer can. “You want another?”

“It’s alright, I’ll go,” she tell hers, taking her empty and heading towards the kitchen, eager for a break from a film she had no interest in watching last year, let alone again this year.

She chucks the cans into the recycling bin, before opening the fridge and retrieving two more. She yelps as she closes the door, startled by Billy standing there.

“Jesus, Billy–”

“Sorry, sorry…” he mumbles apologetically, a tinge of pink dusting itself across his cheek bones, as he averts his gaze. “Wasn’t tryna scare ya, just came down to make a cuppa.”

She exhales through her nose, a smile tugging at her lips. “S’alright. How are you getting on, anyway? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” he says uncertainly, filling the kettle from the sink and then flicking it on to boil. “Guessing you heard what happened then?”

She nods, placing the cans on the side and wiping the condensation off of her hands onto her jeans. “Lana told me. I’m so sorry, Billy, I really hope you’re okay.”

He says nothing for a moment, dropping a tea bag into a mug, followed by a generous pour of milk.

Milk first. Ugh.

“It’s been hard, y’know,” he finally says, “tryna find work, but there’s fuck all out there. What are you up to these days? You’re looking well.”

The sudden shift in focus doesn’t go unnoticed by her, he’s clearly not keen to talk about himself, but she can’t help but smile at the small compliment, feeling herself grow bashful.

“Got a job at a marketing agency,” she tells him, “nothing fancy, but it pays the rent.”

She’s actually a high ranking executive, living in one of the area’s most expensive flat blocks and has a tidy sum saved away for a deposit to eventually buy a place of her own. She’s unsure of why she’s downplaying her achievements, perhaps on some level she feels she owes it to Billy to not rub her success in his face when he’s clearly having a rough time of it.

The kettle boils and Billy fills his mug, stirring the tea bag around with a spoon, before squeezing it out with his fingers, making her wince - that has to burn, but if it does it doesn’t appear to bother him. He discards the used bag on the side, before turning to her. She can see what Lana means about him not tidying up now, it would have taken two steps for him to put it in the bin, and he hasn’t bothered. The laziness almost makes her want to laugh.

“So you and Lana doing your film night then?” He asks, noisily slurping his tea, then fixing her with a soft, yet unblinking gaze.

The intensity of his baby blue eyes flusters her, and for a moment she forgets what he’s asked, feeling the same old butterflies from their school days return. She clears her throat, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the feeling.

“Y-yeah…I’m surprised you remember. You were a teenager the last time we did one of those with you here,” she smiles warmly.

He nods, keeping a hand wrapped around his mug, pushing off of the kitchen side towards her and suddenly she’s aware of just how tall he’s grown, her throat running dry as she feels the kitchen counter bite into her back as she presses herself against it.

She deflates slightly, letting go of a breath she wasn’t aware when she’d been holding, a little disappointed when he brushes past her, lingering in the kitchen doorway.

“I remember,” he says, a ghost of the lopsided smirk she loved so much from their school days playing upon his full lips, “remember what a racket you and Lana used to make pretending you weren’t pissed on that nasty blue stuff.”

She grins, her gaze dropping as she fiddles with the cuff of her jumper sleeve, thinking back to all those years ago. “Sorry, Billy,” she finally says, looking up at him, “we’ll keep it down tonight.”

“No worries, I’ll be upstairs,” he tells her. “Enjoy your film.”

“Billy?” She calls softly after him as he moves to go back upstairs.

He turns, looking at her questioningly.

“You’re looking well too, by the way.”

The dusting of pink that had appeared across his cheekbones earlier now returns in earnest and he gives a simple nod before turning and heading up the stairs.

She deposits his now cold, used teabag into the bin, then grabs hers and Lana’s beers from the side and goes back into the living room.

The rest of the evening passes uneventfully, her and Lana finish off Die Hard, then move onto Gremlins.

On the couple of occasions that she goes upstairs to the bathroom she can hear the sound of Billy playing Call of Duty through his closed door. She thinks about knocking to invite him down to join them, but figures if he had wanted to do that he’d have asked in the kitchen, so she leaves it.

They’re halfway through Jingle All the Way when she feels her eyelids start to grow heavy. She leans forward, placing her half drunk can on the coffee table and turns to Lana.

“I’m gonna have to push off home, babe, I can’t keep my eyes open.”

Lana nods, pausing the film and sitting forward with a yawn. “Yeah, should probably get to bed myself. You gonna be alright getting home? Need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, it’s only down the road, I’ll be fine walking,” she insists as she puts her shoes and coat back on.

“Alright, well, text me when you get home, yeah?” Her friend says, pulling her into a hug.

“Course,” she smiles, hugging her back and heading towards the front door. “Have a great Christmas. See you for New Year’s.”

Lana waves her off and as the front door closes behind her, she’s about to head back down the pathway when the glowing ember of the end of a lit cigarette catches her eye.

She turns to see Billy leaning against the side of the house, smoking a roll up.

“You off?” He asks, exhaling a plume of smoke that’s made larger by the cold that clings to the puff of his breath.

“Yeah. Was good to see you, Billy,” she says, trying to ignore how her pulse races at the way the soft glow of the street lamp illuminates the sharpness of his side profile.

“I’ll give you a lift, if you want?” He offers, crushing his cigarette beneath his foot.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m only twenty minutes down the road,” she says, suddenly feeling awkward, putting her hands in her coat pocket.

“And you could be five minutes down the road if I drive,” he retorts with a smirk.

She sighs, her gaze softening. Not having to walk home in the cold would be nice, actually. “Yeah, go on then.”

Billy walks around to the front door, opens it and fishes around on the key hooks until he has the set he needs. They walk down the road until they reach a red VW Polo and he unlocks it.

“New car?” She asks nonchalantly, having expected to see his old silver Vauxhall Cavalier.

“Nah, this is mum’s. Haven’t had a car since…well…y’know.”

Since it blew up. Fuck, how could she be so thoughtless?!

“Oh god, Billy, I’m so sorry, I–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, opening the driver’s side door. “Do you mind just giving me a minute before you get in?”

She nods, keeping her hands in her pockets, watching as feels all around the car’s interior, checking inside the glove box and under the seats.

Checking for explosives.

He finally settles behind the steering wheel, gripping it tightly, attempting to calm his breaths.

“Honestly, Billy, I don’t mind walking…” she says quietly.

He looks up at her, as though just remembering she’s there. “No…no, it’s fine. I want to do it. It’s good for me, I have to.”

“Can I get in now?” She asks, giving Billy a reassuring smile.

He nods, and she walks around to the passenger’s side, climbing in and buckling her seatbealt.

Billy starts the car and they drive in silence for a few moments before he finally speaks.

“You must think I’m such a loser,” he mutters, fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

She turns slightly in her seat, shocked by what he’s said. “I’ve never thought you were a loser. Please don’t say that.”

“I’ve got no job, no car, I live with my mum and dad, can’t even drive without needing to check I won’t fucking blow up first,” he scoffs, “don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not!” She protests. “You’ve been through so much, Billy, you need to give yourself a break.”

His lips quirk, he pulls a hand away from the steering wheel to pull at the collar of his t-shirt. “S’not just what happened though, brought it on myself dad says. I’ve always been a loser, ever since school.”

“I never thought you were,” she assures him gently, “I actually really fancied you back then.”

Billy draws in a sudden breath, glancing sideways at her as he pulls up outside of her block of flats.

How does he know where she lives? Lana must have told him.

“And now?” He asks, turning off the engine and twisting in his seat to look at her.

It feels as though all the air has left the car suddenly, as they stare at each other. She isn’t sure what possesses her, perhaps the three cans of lager she’s drunk throughout the evening, but she finds herself leaning over the centre console and pushing her lips against his.

He reciprocates, soft and unsure at first, but quickly gains confidence, his mouth moving against hers with more urgency.

She cups his face, her fingers grazing over the stubble at the corner of his jaw that he always seems to miss when shaving and she smiles into the kiss, enjoying its roughness against her fingertips.

Billy seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and she moans softly as it slides against her own.

Their pupils are wide with lust, the windows of the car fogged up when they finally part for breath, keeping their foreheads pressed together.

He strokes his large hand over the back of her head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I come up?”

She swallows thickly, not wanting to reject him, but knowing it’s not a good idea to rush things. “Not tonight, Billy, I–”

He jerks away, hurt flashing across his features, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. “Right, yeah, sorry, was stupid to think you’d want that…”

“No, no, it’s not that!” She says, reaching over and taking his hand in hers, running her thumb over his scarred knuckles. “We’ve waited so long for this, I don’t wanna rush it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, his shoulders relaxing as he breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Can I text you then?”

“I’d like that,” she looks at him through hooded eyes, “let me give you my number.”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Oh. Something else Lana must have given him.

“Alright then. Well, goodnight.”

She leans over and pecks him on the lips, then exits his car.

When she goes to sleep that night it’s with a smile upon her face, knowing that her childhood crush feels the same way that she does. In the back of her mind, she knows that Lana will go mad when she finds out, but that’s a bridge she’ll cross when she gets to it.

She is less than enthused when she awakens the next day realising it’s Christmas Eve and she needs to make her annual visit to her great aunt’s for room temperature sherry, mince pies and questions about why she isn’t married with children yet.

Her face lights up when she sees a text on her phone from an unknown number and realises it’s Billy.

She grins excitedly to herself, calling her great aunt and feigning a migraine, before showering and readying herself for her day with Billy.

True to his word in his text, the buzzer to her flat sounds an hour later and he is at her door a few moments later.

It’s awkward at first, as they both stand there sizing each other up, unsure of what to say or do, until he takes the initiative and steps forward to kiss her.

It all feels so easy and natural, as though it’s something they should always have been doing, and when he takes her hand in his as they walk into town she can’t help the way her heart skips a beat at how perfectly her hand slots into his.

They walk around the Christmas market together, hand in hand, drinking mulled wine. For the first time since they were at school together, she sees Billy laugh, a genuine, happy laugh. He makes jokes, a sparkle returning to his eyes and he looks so relaxed, she is finally able to see his potential again, all that he could be if he wasn’t constantly wallowing in self pity, lurking in Lana’s shadow and taking his parents’ criticisms to heart.

When he walks her home that evening, she doesn’t hesitate to invite him up. Gentle affirmations of “I had a nice time today” rapidly escalate to needy kisses as they tug at each other’s clothes. This is the Billy that she wants, and she sees no point in waiting any longer.

His large hands eagerly grasp at her hips as she pushes him down onto the sofa, straddling his lap.

They are a frenzied clash of lips, teeth and tongue, her hands finding their way into his hair, pulling his head back slightly to mouth at his jaw and neck. He groans at the sensation, hips bucking up to meet hers.

When he slides down his tracksuit bottoms and boxers to free the ample hardness that has been pressing against her thigh for the last five minutes, she lifts herself, meaning to remove her tights. She gasps when his long fingers pluck at the crotch, tearing them open and pushing her knickers to the side.

His digits swipe through the wetness of her folds and she shudders against him. “You on the pill?” He asks gruffly.

She nods in affirmation, a whine escaping her as he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, slowly pressing into her.

The sounds he makes against her ear as he thrusts up into her are lewd, but with every grunt and breathy moan she clenches around him. This is a purely carnal act of desire, fulfilling years’ worth of pent up animalistic need. There will be plenty of time for gentle lovemaking, but right now she just needs to feel him, and judging by the way slams her down to meet each quick thrust, jaw slack and brow furrowed, she is certain he feels the same way.

The throbbing of him inside of her, as he spills deep within her, drives her over the edge and she peaks with a strangled cry, tightening around him in quick successive pulses.

They remain like that for a long while afterwards, resting against each other on the sofa, in the darkness of her living room.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, you’ve got no idea,” he whispers eventually, once his breathing has returned to normal.

“Me too,” she whispers.

“I wanna stay, but–”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Billy, it’s alright. You should get home before your mum gives you an earful.”

They pull unsteadily apart, adjusting their clothes, and she walks him to the door.

“I’ll text you, yeah?” He says.

“Yeah,” she smiles before kissing him softly, “Merry Christmas, Billy.”

“You an’ all,” he murmurs, pulling her into a tight hug and then walking away.

Christmas Day is uneventful. Presents and a roast at her parents’, followed by an afternoon of board games and films.

She gets a happy Christmas text from Lana, and smiles when she gets one from Billy too - the first he’s ever sent her.

By the time Boxing Day rolls around, she’s already thoroughly fed up with her family and eager to be back in her own space. She grins when her phone buzzes with a message from Billy.

She pulls out her phone, thinking carefully about what to send to her best friend, before typing a message.

She arrives at Billy and Lana’s parents’ house an hour later and is given a warm welcome by everyone. It’s strange not being able to interact properly with Billy, considering how close they’ve become so quickly over the last few days, however, he carries himself with a confidence she’s never seen him have in front of his family before.

He stands a little straighter, actually bothers to make eye contact when he talks to people. It spreads a warmth within her chest to see him no longer looking so downtrodden and defeatist, she can no longer sense the anger that used to simmer just below the surface like she used to be able to.

His eyes find hers whenever no one’s looking and she can’t help the smiles that she directs his way.

The leftovers have been dished up and they’ve been sitting around the TV for an hour when she goes upstairs to use the bathroom.

Noticing Billy’s bedroom door ajar on her way back downstairs, she can’t resist a peek inside. She’d never dared go in when she’d come to see Lana when they were younger. She pushes the door fully open, nose wrinkling at the rumpled bed sheets and assortment of dirty socks and boxers that litter the floor, but smiles as she casts her eye over the Oasis poster on the wall and the acoustic guitar that leans against the chest of drawers.

She twiddles absentmindedly with the PS4 controller, when a box that’s been shoved haphazardly beneath the bed catches her eye. She drags it out, pulling out a scrapbook that sits on the top.

Her heart hammers in her chest, her blood feeling as though it runs ice cold as she flips through it. It’s filled with old school photos of her, plus newer pictures that have clearly been printed off from her social media accounts.

Rummaging further into the box she pulls out items she’d assumed she’d either lost or that Lana had borrowed on the occasions she’d stayed over - there are scrunchies, old lip balms, even a pair of her underwear. Disgust causes bile to rise in her throat, a mixture of fear and disbelief quickly spreads its way through her body.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” Billy’s voice says quietly from the doorway, causing her to gasp as she looks up in fright. “Doesn’t matter now though, don’t need that shit anymore, not now I’ve got the real thing.”

“Billy,” she pleads, her voice shaking, “what is all this?”

“I’ve always wanted you, never thought you’d feel the same though. She looked like you, y’know,” he tells her, stepping closer and shutting the door behind him.

“Who?” Tendrils of icy fear spread to her belly, every nerve in her body screaming at her to run, yet she stays rooted to her spot on the bed.

“Becky,” he says simply, “she was the spit of you. Only reason I went out with her, to be honest. I was gutted when she ended things, but she doesn’t matter now. Don’t need some cheap knock off, not when I have you.”

“Please, Billy, you’re scaring me,” she whispers, tears pricking her eyes.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Job hunting, the bomb, none of it matters because I’ve got you.”

“Listen to yourself, this isn’t you,” she pleads, backing up on the bed away from him as he towers over her.

“You’ve seen how much better I am with you, you can’t take that away. I need you. And I make you feel good too. Look, you just need a reminder.”

He looms over her on the mattress, his hand darting between her legs and she whimpers.

“Billy, no, please…”

She wants to scream, to cry out and make him stop, but the thought of attracting the attention of Lana and her parents and them coming up here and seeing all of this is more than she can stand. So she lays there, lets Billy slide his hand up her skirt and into her underwear, hating the way her body responds to his trust.

“See?” He murmurs again the shell of her ear. “Only I can make you feel like this. Everything is gonna go my way now that you’re mine, you’ll see.”

Her vision goes watery, a combination of tears and building pleasure causing the poster on the opposite wall to blur.

She tenses as his fingers work her quickly towards her climax and she screws her eyes shut, shuddering with a quiet whine as she falls apart.

“There you go,” he coos gently, “I’ve got you now, and I’m never letting you go.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down her spine. Billy is a man with nothing to lose. He means it. He’ll never let her go.

#billy washington #billy washington x reader #billy washington x you #billy washington x y/n #billy washington smut #billy washington imagine #billy washington trigger point #ewan mitchell #billy washington fan fiction #billy washington fanfiction #billy washington fanfic #billy washington fan fic #trigger point

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allywthsr · 4 months

Text

EARLY CHRISTMAS | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando celebrate an early Christmas with Carlos and Rebecca

wordcount: 1.5k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: Rebecca is Carlos‘ girlfriend

notes: what are we thinking? I hope you are okay with me using Rebecca?

advent calendar

”When are they coming, baby?“

”Carlos sent me a message, that they landed about an hour ago, with collecting their luggage and getting a taxi, they should be here any minute, my love.“

You were currently waiting for Carlos and his girlfriend Rebecca to arrive at your Monaco home. Lando and you invited the two for your annual early Christmas, which you always held with Carlos, last year it was still with Isa, but this year it was Rebecca. You‘ve met her before, and you two got along, but today you wanted to get to know her better, you wanted Rebecca to have someone she could come to during a race and whenever she needed someone.

Lando came into the kitchen, where you were checking, again, if all the foods were ready to eat, ”I know you love Isa, but please give Rebecca a chance, she‘s the new girlfriend of Carlos and we gotta accept it“, he closed his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in for a hug, with a peck to your forehead he tried to comfort you.

He knew how heavy your heart was today, for the five years you two had been together, the four of you always celebrated Christmas early, with a feast, and sitting under the tree to open presents. Each year it was held at someone else’s house, five years ago, Lando and you started and celebrated in Woking, where Lando had his house at that time, the year after that it was held in Spain, where Carlos had his own house, and the rest of the years continued like that. This year it was Lando’s and your turn, and you hosted it in your Monaco home.

You already called Isa today, not to rub it in her face or anything, you wouldn’t even have mentioned that it happened, if she hadn’t started talking about it herself.

She knew you always held it around this time, and she also knew how you felt, she felt the same way. Isa might not be in a relationship with Carlos anymore, but she cared about you and Lando, she missed you as equally as you missed her. When you joined Lando at his first GP, she was the one who started talking to you and introduced you to the wag world. Ever since you tried to meet up with her regularly, which, thanks to Formula One, happened often. Now it was less often, you tried to talk over the phone every week, but with work and other stuff, you two rarely found the time.

She asked you about the food you served and what kind of presents you got everyone, she even told you that Carlos would love the gift you got him. It was a self-designed golf bag, with chili’s and the Spanish flag all over it, it may be a simple thing, but you knew he would love it.

For Rebecca, you got a gift set from your favorite skincare brand, a pair of fuzzy socks, some tea, and a mug for the tea. You didn’t know what she would like, so you got her some obvious things almost every girl likes. You got a simple bracelet for Lando, it was a leather band and had your and his initials engraved in it. It wasn’t his actual Christmas present, that was wrapped and waited for actual Christmas to come.

Lando got Carlos a fan collection of the game of Thrones series, the DVDs in a special edition case, mostly just for decoration purposes instead for the DVDs, but it was the special steal edition and Carlos would love it. For Rebecca, he got her a bathing set, might be boring but you two didn’t know her enough to get her something more for her.

The four presents were safely wrapped in wrapping paper under the tree, Lando’s were a bit more wonky and uneven, but you insisted he wrapped it himself, it was more special that way.

With one last kiss to Lando’s lips, you freed yourself from his grip and went into the living room, where you switched on the lights on the tree and lit the candles on the table.

You sighed at the idea of hosting someone else than Isa, but before you could spend another thought to that, the doorbell rang and Lando and you went to open the door.

Carlos was wearing a hoodie and some denim, while Rebecca was wearing a red sparkly dress and held a bouquet in her hands.

”Hey you guys, come inside“, you ushered them inside and before you could say another thing, Rebecca gave you the flowers with a: ”these are for you“, and hugged you shortly. You returned the hug and kissed her cheeks, and you gave Carlos a big hug, you hadn’t seen him since the last race. Lando gave Carlos a big hug as well and gave Rebecca a friendly squeeze. You two didn’t know her enough to greet her like an old friend.

The two put their presents under the tree and settled at the table after a trip to the bathroom to wash their hands. Lando filled everyone’s glasses with their drink wishes and sat down next to you, touching your thigh to try and calm you down, without Isa, it wasn’t the same.

”So, what have you done so far during the break?“, you looked at Carlos and Rebecca and waited for someone to answer.

”Just chill and enjoy the peace.“

Carlos nodded with Rebecca's words and you smiled at her. The uncomfortable silence was loud and you let out a sigh.

”Who’s ready for the starter?“

You and Lando got up and went into the kitchen, you were about to grab the pot of sweet potato soup and pour it into the plates, but Lando grabbed your waist before you could and pulled you to his chest.

”Please baby, relax. It’s going to be fine, the beginning is awkward, but I’m sure it's fine after the starters.“

You nodded and grabbed the ladle, filling the plate with the soup. Lando and you brought the plates back to the table, you sat down and wished everyone to enjoy their meal.

During the starters, things did get more comfortable, everyone started talking and laughing. You got to know Rebecca more, and saw another side of her than the media. She asked questions back and genuinely seemed interested.

”And now you work for quadrant?“

”Yes, I keep track of every video, and also some merch inquirers come my way.“

”That’s interesting!“

”It is, and you are a model?“

”Yep, I think it’s fun, you always look pretty and I like having my picture taken.“

You nodded while scooping the last bit of your dessert in your mouth.

Lando also relaxed after he saw you and Rebecca talking so openly, the girls cleaned the table while the boys settled already on the couch, to open the present in a second. You placed the plates on the counter, to put them into the dishwasher once you had the time, but you joined your boyfriend and Carlos on the couch, the boys already excited to see what they got.

Everyone grabbed one present and you opened yours first, it was from Rebecca. Underneath the wrapping paper hid a luxurious phone case, it was your favorite luxurious brand and fitted your phone perfectly. You quickly hugged her and thanked her multiple times, Lando opened his present next. It was yours, he opened the lid from the box and his eyes lit up, ”Thank you, baby! I love it.“

He held it to you and his wrist as well, indicating that he wanted you to put it on, you quickly closed the band and stroked over the back of his hand. Lando kissed your cheek and looked at Carlos, waiting for him to open Lando’s present.

When he ripped the paper from the metal box, he let out a gasp, ”Cabrón! I love it, thank you“, he boxed against Lando’s arm and smiled down at the collection.

Rebecca opened hers last, it was yours, she loved the tea and the mug, but especially the skincare set you got her, she said she needed new skincare stuff and always wanted to try this brand.

Presents were opened until only the wrapping paper lay under the tree, everyone liked their gifts and you could relax. Carlos couldn’t wait to go golfing with Lando and his new golf bag tomorrow. Rebecca was a sweetheart and you could see yourself spending more time with her while the boys were playing golf and in the paddock, introducing her to the others like Isa had done with you.

You were already excited for next year.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #christmas #carlos sainz

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heich0e · 2 years

Text

polluted geto suguru, gojo satoru, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso/f!reader word count: 11k warnings: 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT, recreational drug use (weed), dubious consent, slight sexual coercion, sex under the influence, gangbang, oral sex (f! and m!receiving), double penetration (oral and vaginal), biting, spitting, creampie, snowballing, pussyjob, fingering, choking, squirting, hair pulling, generally rough sex, implication of non-consensual filming/photography, shotgunning, college!au, no curses!au, slight dumbification, ft a cameo from nanami. a/n: this is a continuation of a drabble i posted ages ago (the first few hundred words of this fic!) feel free to skip that if you've already read it. also these tags alone are sending me to hell. enjoy! never talk to me about this again! crossposted to AO3

"D'ya want some?" Gojo asks up at you, his head in your lap as you tap at the screen of your cellphone idly, leaving a heart on a friend's perfectly filtered photo that only makes you feel a little bitter when you look at it.

"Hm?" you ask, glancing down towards him as he peers up at your face. He has a bag of gummy candy resting on his tummy, and you part your lips and stick your tongue out slightly, asking for one of his sweets.

He lets out a little heh at your expression before popping a pink and blue candy–dusted with a sweet-sour crystalline coating–into your waiting mouth.

"I meant the weed," Gojo answers your earlier hum only once you begin to chew the treat he'd just fed you. He sticks his thumb in his mouth, licking it clean of the tangy sugar that clings to it. "D'ya want some?"

"Oh," you reply, eyes flickering to the other side of Gojo and Geto's dorm room where Choso is seated on the floor, a pillow on his lap and an old DVD case on top of it. He's diligently packing the ground up weed into a rolling paper–little bits of green clinging to the tips of his fingers like the sugar had to Gojo's. "I don't think so."

You really shouldn't.

"Why?" Satoru asks petulantly. He's not smoking either–isn't allowed to since the last time when he threw up in Geto's backpack and ruined his social anthropology textbook–but he seems indignant at your refusal.

Choso's dark eyes flicker up to you too, as though interested in your reply, but when he sees you looking back at him he busies himself with his rolling once more with a streak of pink curling across his cheeks.

He's still a little shy around you.

"Who cares?" Sukuna chimes in from where he's reclining in Gojo's desk chair at the end of the bed, tossing a miniature foam basketball up into the air idly before catching it in one large hand and repeating the motion. "Means more weed for us. Fushiguro said this is good shit when I picked up earlier, too."

"That guy with the scar?" Geto asks, peeking out from under his textbook and Sukuna grunts out some sort of affirmative.

Suguru is sprawled out across his bed directly opposite you now that Nanami left to return to his own room–finding the rest of you too distracting to get anything done during what was supposed to be a study session.

You feel something prod against your lips and look down to see Gojo attempting to feed you another sweet. You let him.

"You didn't answer my question," he singsongs as you bite down on the chewy confection between your teeth.

You push most of the rapidly melting, sticky-sweet candy into your cheek with your tongue to talk around it. "I get really.... annoying when I'm high."

Gojo stares up at you for a moment before pulling himself into a seated position at your side.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

A chuckle from across the room tears your eyes away from Satoru's inquisitive gaze, and towards Sukuna who has suddenly stopped tossing the basketball and instead has his attention fixed on you.

You glare at him weakly, knowing what he's thinking without him saying it. "Shut up."

It only makes him laugh again, a sharp smirk on his lips.

"What?" Gojo whines, missing the unspoken words you and Sukuna have exchanged.

"Weed doesn't make her annoying," Sukuna drawls, tossing the basketball up again, only this time away from him–you watch as it curves gracefully in the air, swishing through the little net Geto and Gojo have affixed to the back of their door. "She's always annoying."

"Kuna–" you mumble warningly, your cheeks flushing hot as you squirm nervously atop the rumpled sheets of Satoru's bed.

Everyone has stopped what they're doing now: Suguru's textbook set aside, Choso's fingers stilling with the edge of the nearly finished joint pinched between them.

Sukuna's smirk turns into something even sharper, a smile unfurling slow and wicked across his face.

"Weed doesn't make her annoying–it makes her into a whore."

Everything is hot.

The prickle of smoke in your lungs each time the joint is held to your lips—though you’ve lost track of whose fingers are holding it out to you now.

The flush that curls up your neck and through your face. It burns, almost; blood rushing too close to the surface of your skin to be comfortable.

The three sets of eyes you feel on your skin from various places around the room.

Sukuna’s mouth.

The dorm room smells unmistakably of weed–heavy, earthy, dank—even with the window open and a fan on to whisk the curling plumes of smoke outside. There’s a grimy old towel crammed into the space underneath the door to keep the scent from seeping out into the hallway, but the boys’ RA has let them get away with far worse in their time in residence. At this point you’re not exactly sure what it would take for them to earn a warning knock, much less any sort of formal reprimand.

You guess it pays to have your family’s name plastered on most of the buildings on campus like Satoru’s does.

There’s music playing in the room, bass heavy and slow, and you know it must be Geto’s doing even if you aren’t sure when he turned it on. You recognize the familiar sound from late night drives you’ve taken with him in his car—an old silver sedan that he takes immaculate care of, constantly tinkering away at it—and the songs he sends you to listen to from the other side of your table in the library while you study. The music, like the towel, serves its own purpose.

To mask the sound of you.

“‘Kuna,” you pant raggedly, fingers twisting into his blush pink hair and tugging. He sucks harder at the sensitive spot on your neck that he’s been lavishing with attention for the past few minutes—the one he’s more than familiar with from previous hookups—in retaliation. “Kiss me, kiss me.”

He chuckles, but indulges your desperation, mouthing his way back to your lips: up your throat, along your jaw, eventually slotting his soft mouth to yours.

“She’s so whiny when she’s high,” Gojo says breathlessly, but he sounds closer to you than you expect him to.

You peel your heavy eyelids open only to see him hovering just over Sukuna’s shoulder, blinking when you spot his unsettlingly blue eyes watching you raptly. You try to pull back from Sukuna’s rapacious kiss, startled by Satoru’s proximity, but the boy beneath you’s insistent hands hold you even more firmly to his lap in protest–earning him another needy sound from your throat as your hips grind down against his own. Your lips part in a silent cry of objection, and Sukuna takes it as an invitation to press his tongue even deeper into your open mouth.

“When’s someone else gonna get a turn?” Gojo complains, reaching out to tug on a bit of your hair beside your cheek childishly.

You’d chastise him if Sukuna’s tongue wasn’t mapping the depths of your throat.

“Relax, Satoru.” Geto snorts from his place on his dormitory bed.

Suguru’s textbook has long been discarded on the floor, the page he’d been reading marked but the time for revision evidently passed, and his hair has been retied into a neater knot at the top of his head, pulled back from his handsome face. His eyes watch carefully as Sukuna’s hands slip up underneath the hem of your top, thumbs dipping beneath the cups of your bra to sweep against the soft flesh. Suguru glances at the blonde still lingering over you from where he sits reclined–his legs crossed and body language apathetic though his attention feels anything but.

“We’ll all get our chance, so just enjoy the show.”

Sukuna draws back suddenly, lips parting from yours with one final wet smack.

He hums, nosing at your cheek as you try futilely to chase his mouth, whimpering as he denies you it. There’s a smirk curling, smug and cruel and sure, at the corner of his lips.

“He might have a point, y’know,” Sukuna drawls.

You make a little sound of confusion, your hands slipping from the back of Sukuna’s neck to the front of his t-shirt, pressing against the hard planes of his chest as you balance yourself atop his lap. The rolling desk chair you’re straddling him in really isn’t meant for two, especially not when you’re as dizzy as you currently feel, but Sukuna keeps you steady with his large hands braced on your hips.

He’d coaxed you over after your first few puffs and hadn’t let you leave his grasp since.

“Stop teasing,” you murmur, eyes tracing his pink, spit-slicked lips covetously.

“But if I fuck you first, that’s not really fair is it?—”

He tilts his face up and kisses you, deceptively gentle, and then pinches your bottom lip between his sharp teeth—pulling away until it slips from his bite and snaps back into place. You’re bewildered by his comment, peering at him curiously as your lip stings.

When has Sukuna ever cared about being fair?

He chuckles at your expression, as though he senses your thought without you saying it.

”—Not when I know just how you like it.”

“Do you two do this a lot?” Geto asks from his bed on the other side of the room, his tone level and impassive. Sukuna’s scarlet gaze flickers to him over your shoulder, and he grins—sharp and mean.

“Only when she begs for it.”

You’d refute the claim, but it has its grounds.

“That’s big talk, Ryomen,” Geto remarks, but there’s an unmistakably competitive undercurrent to his lighthearted tone.

“Too much talk,” Satoru interjects exasperatedly, cutting between the two men’s tense exchange and dragging you up to your feet in one swift motion. He’s at the end of his non-existent patience.

You move easily, pliably, under Gojo’s greater strength and imposing stature as he hauls you up; you stumble forward into his chest, unbalanced on your feet as your head swims. You’re dizzy, everything a little fuzzy around the edges, but he holds you steady with his palms cupping your cheeks and ducks down to crush his mouth to yours.

Satoru tastes sweet like the candy he was eating earlier, though you can’t honestly say how long it’s been since he’s polished off the bag, and he sounds just as tooth-achingly saccharine. Little moans and groans of praise slip from him unbidden as he topples back across his bed and drags you down with him.

“Toru, be careful,” you complain against his eagerness, the words half-lost to his lips, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He flips you over so you’re the one on your back, rising to his knees and pulling your hips down towards him so they rest atop his thighs. Your shoulder blades press into the soft give of his mattress, blinking up at him as he curls forward over your frame until the two of you are nose to nose. His breathing is notably faster, heavier than it had been before, as his hands trail up and down your sides, mapping every divot and curve of your thighs, hips and ribs.

“You’re so pretty,” he sighs infatuatedly, before locking your mouths together once more.

Satoru’s hands are greedy and relentless: pawing and groping at any part of you that he can reach. When he stretches his fingers wide, you’re almost startled by just how much of your torso they can span, digging into your flesh in fervent squeezes.

“I bet you taste good,” he breathes hotly against your mouth, pulling back to look at you with his pupils blown wider than you’ve ever seen them—it’s hard to believe he hasn’t taken a single hit from the joint at all with the way the inky black threatens to swallow the striking blue of his irises.

You hear a deep exhale, and the smell of smoke in the room thickens for a moment. Your head lolls to the side against Satoru’s soft cotton bedspread, and your unfocused eyes slide to Sukuna as he breathes out a wispy cloud of grey. His next words are directed to Gojo, but his attention is only on you.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Satoru heeds his advice zealously, and makes his way down your body while you writhe beneath him. It’s a little inundating, the way he touches you—the pressure of his body on yours, the heat of his big big hands, the praises that he whispers into every place his lips graze.

“Toru, I’m hot,” you complain, squirming as he kisses along your ribs.

He peeks up at you over the curve of your tummy, toying with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. His bright eyes are wide with excitement and his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I can help you with that.”

Eagerly he works to peel your top off over your head, it’s a little uncoordinated but you feel an immediate relief as the cool air from the fan meets your sticky skin. Satoru ducks down once your top has been shucked aside and you’re laid flat against the bed again, sucking a stinging mark into the swell of your chest that peeks out from your bra. He cups one palm around either breast to push them together and further into his drooling mouth. But still he doesn’t linger, frenetic in his avidity, moving quickly back down to the waistband of your pants and toying with the button of your jeans that holds them closed.

“Please, Satoru,” you mumble, almost shyly but undeniably strained, as his fingertips stroke the soft skin just below your navel.

He looks at you with a cheshire grin, pleased beyond anything to have you begging, and he needs no further encouragement to pop the closure open.

You lift your hips so Satoru can tug your jeans down your thighs, but he wastes no time in settling back between your parted thighs.

“Oh, look at her,” he coos, his thumb pressing against the damp patch of cotton between your legs. Your hips squirm at the pressure, but he keeps you pinned in place. “You’re so wet.”

With no warning, he dips down and sucks against the material lewdly.

“Toru!” you gasp, a hand flying to his hair and tugging on the impossibly soft white strands, though it does nothing to pry him away from his prize.

“Shh, shh,” he quiets you, pinching at your thigh punitively until your grip slackens, “I don’t wanna waste it.”

In seconds the cotton is soaked through with his spit, clinging to the lips of your cunt as he pushes it between your folds with his tongue. He hums happily with every debauched slurp.

“This is nasty,” Geto says with a laugh as he watches the spectacle unfolding from the bed opposite, sounding every bit as though he’s enjoying himself. “You’re always such a freak, Satoru.”

You’re a little too far gone to catch the implication that you’re not the first girl the two of them have shared. Probably not even in this very room.

“Give her another hit, Kamo,” Sukuna chimes in from his seat at the end of the bed, leaning back leisurely in his chair as he takes in the scene before him.

You’d almost forgotten Choso was there, honestly, especially with Gojo’s tongue toying with your clit through the thin material of your panties. You tilt your head to the side, looking through the hazy dorm room to see the youngest (and the quietest) of the four men watching you with pink in his cheeks, and another unlit joint between his fingers.

Another one? How many have you gone through now?

Choso approaches trepidatiously, and crouches next to the bed beside your head. He clicks the purple plastic lighter held in his fingers, sparking it to life, and holds it to the end of the joint pinched between his lips. He takes a small puff to start it off, pursing his mouth to the side on his exhale as he tries not to blow the smoke into your already teary eyes. He gently holds the unlit end to your lips in offering once it’s burning.

“Just a little one, okay?” you say warily, wrapping your lips around the little paper filter. He nods with his gaze on nothing but your mouth, and swallows thickly.

You feel the first prickle of smoke in your burning lungs at the exact moment Gojo wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

You gasp, drawing in a breath too deeply, and immediately choke on the bitter, acrid taste that floods your throat. You cough and cough, smoke slipping from your mouth and nose while your back arches high off Satoru’s bed with every hack, and spit dribbles from the corner of your lips messily.

“Are you alright?” Choso asks, immediately tossing the joint aside into the grody, chipped ashtray resting under the window. He quickly wipes the saliva on your chin away with the edge of his hoodie sleeve, looking at you with panicked eyes.

“Oh, Satoru, that was mean,” Geto calls from his place across the room, but he sounds almost pleased.

“She’s not paying attention to me.” Gojo pulls back from between your legs, a pout on his slick, swollen lips. A long, viscid string of saliva stretches and breaks between his mouth and your throbbing clit.

Sukuna laughs, thoroughly entertained. “Maybe she’s tired of you sucking on her g-string like a perv.”

“Is that true?” Gojo asks you, sounding almost wounded as he drags you down towards him across the mattress. You’ve still barely caught your breath, your head spinning in a way you don’t quite like as he drops to his knees on the floor. He positions your hips at the very edge of the bed and hooks your knees over either one of his shoulders, your thighs parting further to accommodate his broad frame.

He doesn’t bother to wait for a response to his own question as his lithe fingers pry your soaking wet underwear down your thighs, and the tell-tale sound of cotton tearing tells you that you won’t be putting them back on again. He tosses the tattered remains towards Choso who catches them in confusion, glancing between the sopping scraps in his hand and the man who had thrown them at him.

“You can play with those while you wait your turn,” Gojo says to him, his voice shifting from the cloying, petulant tone he’d used with you into something low, firm, and warning. He suddenly sounds every bit the young scion you know him to be.

Satoru’s blue eyes flicker back to you, as if to make sure you’re watching, and then he dips down and seals his mouth against your bare pussy.

It’s hot, wet, and overwhelming—a sound not dissimilar to a squeal is torn out of you as Satoru’s tongue moves, messy and relentless, between your legs. You’d almost call his technique uncoordinated if it wasn’t so disastrously effective; pleasure curls tight in your belly with every slick suck against your clit, though it’s a mounting burn like panic.

“Toru, I—ngh, haa—s-slow down please I—“ you’re babbling and you know it, barely coherent as your head swims. Before you can even formulate a complete utterance, each fleeting thought less tangible than the last, Satoru’s teeth bite down into the flesh of your inner thigh and you shriek.

“So fuckin’ noisy,” Sukuna muses flatly from his chair at the end of the bed. He’s got a front row seat to watching Gojo devour you—and to the angry red imprint of teeth he’s left burning on your thigh—but he stands, shuffling across the room towards the window by your head. You’re too distracted to keep track of his movements as he plucks your panties from Choso’s hand and approaches the bed where you lie defenseless under the ministrations of Gojo’s tongue.

Sukuna stares down at you for a moment, but you can barely keep your eyes open to meet his gaze.

“Open up,” he says, tapping your cheek with the knuckle of his crooked index finger.

You oblige without thinking, lips parting and tongue pressing forward slightly between them. Without any warning, he stuffs the remnants of your undergarment into your mouth.

The fabric tastes of your slick and Gojo’s spit, sticky and tangy and obscene, and it makes your already dry mouth feel even more desiccated as your moans bleed into the material.

Satoru whines into your cunt, a thoroughly pleased sound at the debauched sight. He grinds shamelessly against the end of his bed as he kneels at the foot of it, his hands holding your hips even firmer against his face as his tongue laps against your twitching hole all the way back up to your clit.

“You gonna cum for him?” Sukuna asks, watching the way your eyes are fighting to stay open, the way your fingers are gripping weakly into the blankets beneath you.

You nod, your mouth stuffed too full for anything else, with tears burning in your bleary eyes.

He smirks. “Give ‘em a good show then, will ya?”

He takes his seat again, knees spread as his hand passes lightly over the half-hard swell of his own cock, ready to watch you fall apart.

Your back bows on a particularly enthusiastic suck against your clit, your thighs clamping down hard over Satoru’s ears. Electricity thrums live through your veins, crackling from one end of your body to the other until you see it spark behind your eyes, and the sound of your desperate voice stops registering in your empty mind as your own as your muffled cries turn rapturous.

“Wow,” you distantly hear Geto—at least you think it’s Suguru’s voice—remark approvingly, watching the way your thighs twitch around his best friend’s neck as your orgasm rips through you.

Your muscles go slack as your clit throbs dully, still victim to Satoru’s insatiable tongue, your legs nearly slipping off his shoulders as your pulse thrums in your ears. Your trembling fingers reach up to fish the panties out of your mouth as you pant desperately for breath.

Satoru’s bed is surprisingly comfortable, you can’t help but notice as you fight to draw in air. It’s way more comfortable than your own standard issue dorm mattress, and you wonder if he’d brought his own to furnish the room on move-in day as you sink back into it. Your eyes are shut, and you feel like you could slip away to the call of sleep if you just—

“That was so pretty, you’re so pretty, god you taste so good,”—Satoru scrambles up, leaving you no time to recover from the sedulous talents of his overactive mouth, pulling his hard cock out of his jeans and shucking them down to mid-thigh hurriedly—“you’re so perfect.”

Your eyes flutter open and down to watch as he runs himself through the mess he’s made, rutting just the underside of his cock against you as precum oozes from his slit. Your breath hitches as you catch sight of him for the first time.

“Satoru–”

He holds both of your knees together with a single hand, twisting your hips slightly to one side and grinding himself against the wet heat of your pussy, but never sinking inside. You’re not sure you could even take it, he’s so big; anyone else’s dick would look small in comparison to Satoru’s hands, but his is perfectly, terrifyingly proportionate to the rest of him.

Fortunately for you, he seems content to fuck himself against you like this– or too desperate to do much of anything else—the patch of neatly trimmed white hair at the base of his flushed cock brushing against the back of your thighs on every frantic thrust.

“Your pussy is so soft, so wet,” Satoru prattles on incessantly as he grinds against you, his hips clapping against your ass with every rut, “so good. D’you know that? You know that, right?”

You don’t answer him. Can’t answer him. Struck dumb by the ebbing glow of your orgasm, the sight of his enormous cock, and the THC flooding through your bloodstream. Your silence doesn’t seem to bother him in any case—he seems far more interested in the sound of his own voice than in anything that you might have to say in reply.

Satoru stays vocal as he chases his own pleasure, moaning and praising you blindly as he humps himself between your thighs. It doesn’t take much longer until he cums across your stomach with a blissed out keen that puts every pornstar you’ve ever seen to shame. His hands hold you tight against his twitching hips as he cock kicks and gives one last long splatter of white across your tummy, all the way up to the valley of your ribs.

The room is quiet in the aftermath, save for the steady buzzing of the fan, the music playing from the speaker on Suguru’s desk, and the sound of you and Satoru’s laboured breathing.

But not for long.

“Jeez, do you always have to be so messy?” Geto asks, rising from his place across the room. But there’s no real bite in his comment—and there never is when it comes to Satoru. “You really need to learn to clean up after yourself.”

Gojo grabs your discarded panties from beside you on his bed and swipes them through the cum drying to your skin with a little giggle, barely cleaning you up at all.

Geto gives him a harmless little knock against the back of his head, but doesn’t truly seem to mind.

“You know, I really didn’t take you for such an exhibitionist,” he says to you as he pries your limp body up off Satoru’s bed, weak-kneed and unsteady as you may be, and helps you across the room towards his own.

Suguru leads each of your wobbly steps like a dance—one arm wrapped snugly around your waist, and his other hand clasped around yours as he steers you across the narrow strip of floor between their respective halves of the room. He pulls you down to straddle his lap, your knees sinking into his mattress (not nearly as plush as Satoru’s) on either side of his hips as you bounce lightly on the creaky springs, while he rests with his back against the dorm wall.

“I’m not, Suguru,” you mumble petulantly, fisting his t-shirt as he holds you flush against him. He smells good, even through the stench of the weed clinging to him and you and everything else in the room—like new paper, laundry detergent, and the conditioner you’d bought for him once that he never stopped using—and you nuzzle instinctively into his neck to get closer to the scent. You must be making a mess of his grey sweatpants, but he doesn’t complain.

“Sure, sure,” he says breezily, and you feel the gentle warmth of his hand on your chin as he tilts your face up towards him.

He kisses you and it’s hungry.

Tongues sliding, mouths parted, teeth nipping at your already sore lips.

Kissing Suguru is nice, you think. It feels familiar even in its foreignness. Welcome even in the head rush. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it before, even if your relationship has only ever been platonic: in quiet moments in his beloved car, late night study dates in isolated corners of the library, midnight walks across campus to the convenience store to sate an ill-timed craving. His lips had always been tempting, but it’s even better than you may have hoped.

You lose yourself in it, a little bit—whatever is left of you to be lost, anyway.

You barely notice as his nimble fingers undo the clasp of your bra, easing it away until you’re completely bare against him; too preoccupied to piece together that you’re the only person in the room who isn’t fully clothed. He tilts his face away from you for a moment, leaving you to kitten lick at the corner of his mouth distractingly.

“Pass me the joint,” he grunts out towards Choso, tossing your bra aside as haplessly as Gojo had discarded the rest of your clothes, and his junior hands the half-burned spliff to him obediently.

“Don’t want any more,” you murmur against Suguru’s cheek, dipping down and tucking your face into the crook of his neck again.

He laughs, and you feel the sound reverberate through his chest and into yours.

“Just a little bit?” he urges you, an affectionate arm snaking around your waist and squeezing. “For me?”

You shake your head as much as you’re able with your burning face hidden against his throat.

“Here,” he coaxes you out with a gentle knead of his fingers into your thigh, and you find yourself peeking up at him against your better judgement. “You’ll barely even get high from this, it’s just to keep you feeling good.”

You don’t know if what he says is true, but you let him do it anyway. He takes a long drag from the joint, his serpentine eyes watching you carefully as the cherry flares bright red and angry, and then he seals his mouth over yours and exhales.

You breathe in the heavy, polluted air from his lungs like a reflex.

“There you go,” he says, drawing back and watching contently as you exhale a little cloud of smoke. It’s fainter than if you’d taken the hit yourself, and burns less in your chest, so you think he must be right. “Easy.”

Things get fuzzier after that.

Suguru has you on your hands and knees, though you don’t quite know how you got there. Maybe you’d moved yourself, maybe he’d instructed you, or maybe he’d maneuvered your pliant body with the force of his own two hands. But here you are, your face pressed into a pillow that smells of him, his body curving over yours from behind.

You feel his bare chest against your back, and wonder when he’d taken off his shirt. Wonder if it’s the only thing that’s bare. Suguru mouths at the nape of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“Y’know, I’ve been waiting a long time for this,--” he whispers the words so softly that you’re sure only you can hear them. They rattle around through your brain for a moment, incoherent in the buzz.

Once they finally do register, there’s a part of you—a distant, more sober part, that’s watching things unfold warily—wonders if he means longer than just the time he’d watched Sukuna and Satoru play with you. His fingers trail down your sides, and you shiver.

“--but it’s okay. I’m patient.”

“Suguru!” you cry out as he slips the head of his cock inside of you without warning. You aren’t ready, even though you’re wet—Gojo hadn’t stretched you out, and Suguru’s fingers, for all their teasing and toying, had never pressed inside.

“God, how’s your pussy so tight?” he hisses through his teeth, the stifling heat of his body fading as he draws himself up to rest on his knees. He has one hand on the small of your back holding you down, while the other is on your ass–spreading you apart so he can see the way he’s pressing into your pussy.

He’s still barely inside of you, but his hips still as he takes in the way your walls are stretched around him, sucking him in. He takes a moment to collect himself, then glances over his shoulder at Sukuna.

“You must not actually be fucking her as well as you think you are.”

Sukuna scowls. “Fuck you.”

“Bit busy right now,” Suguru replies, feigning flippancy as he snaps his hips forward harshly, sheathing himself all the way to the hilt. He grinds against your ass as you whimper into his pillow, the sound muffled beyond recognition by the cotton of his pillowcase. “But hit me up later.”

Geto is brutal in the way he fucks you: unyielding, rough. But he touches you tenderly. Praises you gently under his breath after every thrust. It’s almost confusing; his hips at war with his hands, his actions at war with his words.

The initial pain and discomfort subsides quickly, thanks to Suguru’s fingers carefully rolling against your twitching clit. Every time you want to complain, he compensates his cruelty with something so pleasant that the protest dies on your lips.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight right now,” Suguru groans, fingers skirting up to pinch at one of your pebbled nipples. You clench down around him instinctively at the sensation. “You want to cum?”

There’s too much saliva in your mouth to answer him properly, too much blood rushing to your head to do anything more than whimper and nod as your fists twist into his blue bed sheets.

“Do you deserve to cum?” Suguru asks, his hips easing to a torturous grind behind you, dragging slow against your fluttering walls. “Gojo already made you cum once, and you didn’t even thank him for it.”

“Suguru, you’re being a bastard again,” Gojo laughs brightly from the other side of the room, though you can’t see him from where your head is pressed into the pillow.

“If you could feel how tight her little pussy just clamped down around me you’d know she likes it,” the man inside you laughs, something mean and manic in the sound. He curves himself over your back again, brushing a bit of your hair away from your face. “You tell Gojo thank you, and I’ll let you cum, how about that?”

Geto’s fingers wrap themselves around your throat, pulling you upright with a hand cupped under your chin. There’s spit and tears on your face, and you feel them cooling against the breeze of the fan on the other side of the room as you blink against the brightness of the fluorescent light overhead.

You turn your head slightly with Suguru’s help, meeting Gojo’s eye from across the dorm. He’s got a cherry-red lollipop in his mouth now, staining his swollen lips. He’s seated with his legs crossed at the end of his bed, and he’s watching you intently as you peer over at him.

“Thank you, Toru,” you rasp, moaning when Geto’s hand squeezes a little bit tighter around your windpipe.

“For what?” Suguru urges you to continue, lips pressing against your hairline. He gives a slow, tantalizing roll of his hips, and he feels so much deeper at this angle–like he’s pressing right up against the inside of your stomach.

Your eyelids flutter, and you struggle to swallow under his grip.

You meet Gojo’s eager gaze again.

“Thank you for m-making me cum, Satoru.”

Gojo grins ferally around the candy in his mouth, and Geto hums, appeased. Goosebumps prickle across your skin as he presses a kiss to your sticky temple.

“Good girl.”

The hand not loosely cupping your throat snakes down between your legs, orbiting your tacky clit in quick, vicious circles—your reward.

You cry out, nails scrabbling against his forearm near your throat blindly, your body slackening against the sudden onslaught of pleasure building in your core. Geto strength is the only thing keeping you upright as your body trembles.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Let everyone see how pretty you are when you cum on my cock.”

And you do.

You cum so hard under the relentless swipes of Suguru’s fingertips that it almost hurts. Your thighs shake as you come undone, the tightness in the centre of your core snapping like a cord wound up too taut. His hips don’t stop fucking you through your peak, your chest bouncing on every thrust, even as the pangs of overstimulation begin to twist the pleasure into something painful.

You hiccup over a sob.

“Please, please,” you beg him, watery and desperate, slumping even further forward against his hold. “Suguru, s’too much, I can’t.”

He relents, mercifully—letting go of your throat and wrapping his arms around you from behind, pulling you upright against his chest again and pressing kisses to your neck. His tongue flicks out to taste the perspiration on your aching throat.

“You’re so good to us, aren’t you?” he murmurs into your skin, and you feel yourself nodding as his arms tighten around you.

Choso is still sitting on the floor beside the head of the bed, and his dark doe-eyes blink at you in surprise as your dizzy gazes meet—almost like he’s not anticipating being seen. He’s running his hand along the visible swell of his cock in his black joggers absentmindedly, but his touch is featherlight and barely there. He watches you watch him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

“You’re up, Kamo.”

Suguru sounds warm, gregarious even, in his invitation, and it takes both of you by surprise. He shuffles away behind you, drawing back and leaving you terribly empty. You whine, falling forward to your elbows and narrowly avoiding landing on your face now that he’s not there to keep you upright.

“Su’gru, wait,” you slur needily, reaching behind you with your hand to grasp blindly where you expect him to be. You wiggle your hips in search of him, and feel your pussy fluttering around nothing.

Suguru’s fingers dance teasingly across your palm and then over your spine, down to your ass. He grips the soft give of muscle and fat, squeezing down into the flesh as laughter bubbles up in his throat.

“Make a bit of room, sweetheart. Choso needs a turn too,”—he gives you another squeeze, this time insistent—“you’ll let him use your pretty mouth, won’t you?”

You hum some sort of agreement.

Choso stands and approaches the bed, watching your expression carefully. He’s intrigued, undeniably, but seems poised to flee at the slightest indication of uncertainty on your part.

“Hi Choso,” you say as you blink up at him, sniffling as you push yourself weakly onto your haunches, your hands resting atop your knees. He’s blushed down to his throat as he dips his head at you in quiet greeting. Your hand reaches up to trail against the prominent outline of his cock below his waistband. “Can I?”

He nods, but it’s hesitant. “If you’re sure.”

Choso lowers himself into the bed, making sure not to jostle you too harshly as he finds his place with a leg on either side of your body, propped against the headboard.

You crawl forward towards his lap, nuzzling against the tent in his joggers and mouthing at the tip until you can taste the salty tang of his precum seeping through the fabric. He brushes some hair back from your eyes as you peek up at him.

His gaze is heavy, like the droop of his eyelids, and this close to him you see just how warm the deep brown of his eyes really is. So dark they almost look black, from this angle you can see the honey that runs behind the stygian surface.

He’s really very handsome in his own strangely delicate way, you can’t help but think.

Your hand creeps slowly below the waistband of his joggers, fingers following the little trail of coarse hair below his navel until you wrap your hand around him. His cock is hot and heavy, and you can feel it give a palpable little twitch as your fingers circle the surprising girth. Gently, you pull him out.

Even Choso’s cock is pretty. Long, curved, with purpled veins that run the length of him all the way to the flushing, leaking tip. He’s so hard. Achingly hard. You can’t believe how lightly he’d been touching himself when you see just how desperately aroused he is.

You dip forward and take the head of him into your mouth, suckling around him. Desperate to give him some sort of relief. Choso hisses in surprise as your lips seal themselves around the flared head, tonguing at the slit—almost like he hadn’t been expecting you to touch him at all.

Your eyes watch him intently, your brow quirking in curiosity.

“S’hot,” he explains, his deep, raspy voice incongruously diffident. “Your mouth is hot, s’all.”

You focus your attention on Choso’s tip for a while, because he seems so sensitive there—little gasps and twitches of his hips giving him away. Your drool drips slowly down to his balls, the waistband of his joggers tucked beneath them catching it, and you use your hand to slowly stroke the slickness back up from the base towards your mouth.

It sounds messy–it is messy–but no one vocalizes the slightest bit of complaint.

Behind you, Suguru’s fingers dip just barely inside of you–twisting, curling and scissoring before they withdraw and roll slowly over your neglected clit. You’re not as sensitive as you had been, and the sensation is nice but never enough. Your hips cant back unconsciously towards him as you chase his touch for more, and it makes him laugh, but never quite indulge you.

Choso shifts slightly, taking the hem of his t-shirt that’s rucked up over the bottom of his tummy obstructing his view of you and bringing it up to pinch it between his teeth. As he lifts his shirt to expose his skin, he reveals two pink pierced nipples that make you keen in interest.

You pull yourself off of him with a lewd slurp.

“Those are pretty,” you say with a breathy sigh as you admire the little piercings, stroking his cock languidly in one hand. It makes a wet shlick shlick sound with every slippery pass.

Choso lets out a garbled little sound of thanks around the t-shirt in his mouth. You reach up to brush over the metal, curious and experimental, and his thin frame is wracked by a shiver at your gentle touch—the muscles in his abdomen tightening before your eyes.

“Take him in your mouth again, baby. Deep.” Suguru’s voice urges you from over your shoulder, reminding you of the task at hand.

You obey, though you’re a little disappointed to have to tear your attention away from the stainless steel barbells on Choso’s flushing chest.

There’s a bit of discomfort as the fat tip of Choso’s cock squeezes its way past the entrance to your throat, but it’s nothing you can’t handle as you dig your fingertips down into his thighs to ground yourself. He groans, spit soaking into the material of his t-shirt held between his teeth, his eyes so heavy-lidded that they’re barely open as he watches you swallow him down. His cock gives a palpable twitch on your tongue as the pressure of your throat welcomes him in.

You moan around his length at the sensation.

With no warning at all, Suguru presses inside of you again from behind, stretching you open and filling you full full full. You might panic if not for the haze of your mind, but not even that delirious calm can keep you from involuntarily gagging around Choso’s cock as it nestles itself more firmly into the very back of your throat.

“Oh, you tightened up even more,” Suguru says happily, squeezing one of your ass cheeks as he rolls his hips into you, suffocating you even further on Choso’s cock, “do that again.”

You can’t breathe with Choso this deep, especially not with Suguru fucking into you from the other end, forcing any meagre amount of air you do manage to take in through shaky breaths promptly back out through your nose. Your lungs burn. Your jaw aches.

“Gojo, think you can get it up again? There’s a whole other hole going empty back here.” You suddenly feel a hot trail of spit drop against you, and Suguru’s slick fingertip traces teasingly around your rim.

“Ngh—”

You rip yourself upright, desperate and frightened, saliva flying from your mouth as you cough now that Choso’s cock is no longer carving its way down your esophagus. You push yourself up onto your knees with your hands on Choso’s trembling thighs and instinctively try to crawl towards him, away from the man behind you.

You toss a panicked glance over your shoulder.

“—Suguru, no. I-I don’t like that.”

It’s the first time you’ve made eye contact with Geto in some time, and definitely the first time you’ve denied him anything. His skin glistens with perspiration, hair slightly messy as it hangs around his shoulders from where half of it has fallen out of his bun at the crown of his head. His eyes are a little wild, but he softens at the sincere look of upset in your tearful gaze–using his grip on your hips to drag you back into his arms.

He presses little kisses across your face, as familiar and comforting as a lover might.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes you, pecking his way along your cheeks to your quivering lips. “You know I’d never do anything you don’t like, right? I’m too crazy about you to ever do that.”

Something twists in your gut that doesn’t feel nice, though you can’t quite put your finger on why.

The song playing in the room trails off, and there’s a few beats of silence before the next kicks in.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Do you?

You let him kiss you into submission once more, held tight in his embrace.

Geto’s hand finds yours and slowly guides your touch back to Choso’s cock, encouraging you to pump your hand up and down the slick length as he continues to kiss you senseless—he’s moving in time like a rhythm you can’t quite follow, resigning yourself to being swept along with the motions. Suguru’s hand around yours grips Choso so tight, and the boy laying on the bed grunts but doesn’t complain, and you realise that he likes it a bit rougher than you’d been with him.

“You’re not gonna break him,” Geto encourages you, mirthful even in the quiet tone of his voice, and it bolsters your confidence to wrap your hand a little bit tighter around the girth of his throbbing cock of your own volition. Choso moans prettily into the hem of his t-shirt, his hips lifting up off the bed.

“I don’t think poor Choso’s gonna last much longer, are you gonna help him cum?” Suguru murmurs into your mouth, and your foggy gaze slides over to the young man in question, writhing on the bed as Geto grips him even tighter on an upstroke with his hand still clasped over yours.

“Mmmhmm,” you agree, and Geto smiles into one last kiss before pulling away.

You get back down on your hands and knees between Choso’s parted thighs, continuing to stroke him with the same intensity that Geto had set. He’s slick not only with your saliva but the liberal amount of precum beading at his slit now and dribbling down his length, and the bitter taste blooms across your tongue as you lick a long stripe from the base to the top. He whimpers as you press the very tip of your tongue just underneath the sensitive head.

“You gonna cum in her mouth or on her face, Kamo?” Sukuna drawls from his seat across the room, and the reminder that he’s still there—still waiting for his turn—makes your thighs press together as your pussy gives a needy throb. “She looks good both ways.”

Choso finally lets the sopping hem of his t-shirt slip from between his teeth, staring down at you with shiny lips and flushed cheeks as his chest heaves.

“Mouth?” he asks raggedly, forming the request like a question—like he’d let you say no. You smile softly.

You like how sweet Choso is with you. How he treats you like you’re delicate.

You stroke his weeping cock once, twice, three times more, and then wrap your lips around him and swallow him as deep as you possibly can.

Choso cums with a beatific moan, his narrow hips jumping up off the creaky mattress of Suguru’s bed. His hands twist into the sheets beside him like he’s trying not to thread them through your hair and hold you flush against him, and you appreciate the courtesy. Once he paints your mouth white, a few hot spurts slipping down your throat, you pull away and make a show of letting your tongue loll out so he can see what’s left of him clinging to it.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, fighting for breath, and you nod—coy and demure like you don’t have a stomach full of his cum.

He cranes up towards you, pressing his lips to yours gently. You kiss him with his cum still in your mouth, his tongue sweeping forward to taste it off you.

“Damn, you might be nastier than I am, Kamo,” Gojo cheers from the other side of the room in absolute delight.

“Fat fuckin’ chance,” Sukuna snorts.

Choso kisses you until you can’t feel any more of his spend lingering in your mouth, though the salty, bitter taste still faintly remains. Your fingers creep up under his shirt to brush over the warm metal of the barbells pierced through his skin as the two of you explore each other’s mouths. You pinch down gently and it earns you a little groan of pleasure as the tip of his tongue traces against your palate. You kiss him–lazy and messy and gentle–and it feels so good you momentarily forget you have an audience.

“How sweet.” There’s something condescending about the way Geto coos it, patronising even. “So good to our shy little junior.”

You pull away from Choso—a long strand of saliva stretching and breaking between your kiss bruised mouths, remnants of it landing on your chin. Geto’s poised on his knees at the other end of the bed, watching you with a smile that makes his eyes narrow and curve into half-moons. There’s nothing kind about it.

He runs a hand along his still stiff cock as it stands proudly between his legs.

“I’d say that’s enough now, wouldn’t you?”

Choso pulls himself up out of the bed without complaint, his fingertips grazing your chin as he cleans the spit from it for the second time that afternoon—though this time the mess is his, at least in part, instead of only yours.

Once it’s just the two of you left atop the bed, Suguru flips you over and presses your legs back. He kisses up between the valley of your breasts as he slots himself between your legs, dragging the flared head of his cock between your soft, sticky folds. He’s already made you cum once, but he hasn’t yet reached his limit.

Part of you wonders if he’s been holding off for this.

“Did you put on a condom?” you ask, the thought appearing suddenly and starkly. You hadn’t thought about it before–hadn’t had the presence of mind to do so–but now it seems the only thought rattling around in your hazy, delirious brain.

“Oh, I forgot,” Suguru says, though he doesn’t sound remotely apologetic as he sucks against your pulse-point. You’re sensitive there, and it makes something flutter in your tummy that threatens to distract you from the topic at hand. “That okay? You’re on birth control, aren’t you?”

You nod, because it’s true in part—the latter part specifically.

You don’t have time to bring up the former issue before Suguru is fucking himself inside of you again—a thrust so hard you slide a little further up the bed. You gasp at the sudden stretch and claw at his back, your nails dragging against the musculature of his shoulder blades as he fucks you down into his mattress. He bites and tugs at your lips, kissing you meanly, his hips jackhammering as he chases the release he’s denied himself up until this point.

His dark hair falls completely out of the knot it had only loosely been holding onto, falling in a curtain around both of your faces. For a moment it’s just the two of you. Laboured breaths. Skin on skin.

Suguru swallows your needy mewls with his esurient mouth, drool spilling down your chin with how messily he’s kissing you.

“Take it, take it,” he rasps, a fissure crackling through his carefully maintained composure as he nears the end of his fraying rope. “Show them all how you were made to take my fucking cock, baby.”

Your thighs shake where they’re pressed up to your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh behind your knees as he pushes them even higher up. He uses his grip as leverage to swing his hips down even harder against your own, your jaw going slack on a wordless wail.

Suguru watches the way his cock is carving into you for a few thrusts more, and then he snaps–burying his face in the crook of your neck and clamping his teeth down viciously at the juncture where your throat slopes into your shoulder.

Your back bows off the bed and you scream at the exact same moment that Suguru pitches over the edge, your nails clawing down his back blindly as he stuffs you full with rope after rope of hot, sticky cum—fucking you through his peak with lazy, arrhythmic thrusts that grow sloppier with every throb of his spent cock buried inside of you.

You collapse back onto his bed, boneless and aching. You don’t even know what you feel, how you feel. It’s all just a bit too much to sort through in your addled mind, dulled to an incoherent cacophony of sensations all fighting for attention you don’t have the wits to give them. It’s all out of focus, warped beyond comprehension and only partially due to your inebriation.

Suguru slumps on top of you, your chests meeting. You smell his conditioner again. Familiar. Nice. He’s heavy, but you almost welcome it–it distracts you momentarily from the throbbing in your neck.

“C’mon, Suguru, you almost broke her and now you’re gonna squish her too?” Gojo jeers from the other side of the room, and Suguru laughs as he pushes himself up, the tacky skin of your chests peeling away from each other.

You blink up at him tiredly as he holds himself over you, his dark hair hanging in his eyes. His lips quirk, cupping your face in his hand. It’s tender until it’s not, his fingers pressing into the fat of your cheeks until your lips purse.

“She liked it,” he tosses over his shoulder towards his best friend, sitting up on his knees. He brushes his hair back from his face with one hand, and spreads your quaking thighs with the other. He laughs, his thumb tracing the bitemark Satoru had left for you there, watching the way his cum drips out of you as you clench weakly around nothing. “At least this part of her did.”

You reach up to hide your face under your hands, letting out a plaintive little sound as your cheeks burn. You feel the bed shift as Suguru gets up.

“What are you being shy about now?”

You pry your hands off your face and let your heavy eyelids flit open, though it takes a concerted amount of effort, only to see Sukuna standing above you with a brow quirked. He perches himself on the edge of the bed and swipes a warm, calloused hand over your tearstained cheek.

“You look out of it.”

“Kuna,” you murmur weakly, pouting. You’re grateful to see him in spite of his snark, and when you nuzzle your nose into his rough palm he chuckles. There’s something comforting about his presence, though you may be the only person on earth to ever think that.

“Still got one more in you? For me?” he asks, running his thumbnail–painted black though the polish has long begun to chip–along the edge of your bottom lip.

You nod.

Sukuna kisses you even though you’re messy, crawling over you on Suguru’s rumpled bedspread. He pulls off his t-shirt and kicks his sweatpants and boxers gracelessly off the end of the bed to deal with later.

Your body feels funny, like it’s yours but not quite. Tangible and yet somehow shapeless—given form only in the way that Sukuna’s hands trace it.

The tip of his cock catches on your puffy, slick hole, and you wince.

“Sensitive,” you murmur against his mouth, wriggling underneath him in discomfort, and he nods because he knows.

It always surprises you how gentle Sukuna is as he eases inside, and this time is no different. Your head spins at the familiar, toe-curling stretch, and he curses lightly as he seats himself balls-deep inside of you.

“Best pussy on campus, I swear,” he groans against your stinging lips, squeezing your tits which he has cupped in each hand appreciatively.

He pulls out slowly, making sure you feel every curve and ridge of him as he withdraws—like he wants you to feel how empty he’s leaving you before he’s bullying his way back inside of you again. He begins to rut into you in slow, agonizing strokes, all with near impossible accuracy. The pace he fucks you at is deep and unhurried, just like he’s had practice to know you like it.

Sukuna links your fingers together as he presses both of your hands up over your head.

“Feeling good?” Sukuna laughs against your clumsy tongue, seeing the way your eyes are crossed and barely open.

You nod, beyond the point of saying anything that isn’t his name as your fingers tighten minutely around his own.

“Fuck, you sound sloppy,” he breathes and you whine, your legs squeezing around his waist in warning. He clicks his tongue at your indignant little sound, but he’s still indulgent as he fucks into you–careful and slow. “Y’know I like you like this.”

Sukuna frees his hands from yours so he can pry your legs from their cage around him, pressing them back into the mattress so your knees are butterflied apart. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the nape of his neck as the bed shakes–the rickety old frame rattling as it knocks against the dorm wall when his hips pick up the pace, the rhythm of his thrusts building in speed.

“Gettin’ pretty tight,” he grunts, his voice more strained now than it had been only a moment prior. “You wanna cum?”

You nod frantically, tears of exertion welling in your eyes.

“Gonna, hnn haa–Kuna, I’m gonna–!“

He hums, understanding your garbled pleas even though they never take shape into anything articulate. He presses down on the bottom of your stomach with one hand, an almost blinding pressure panging in your core.

“Let go for me then, princess.”

It all goes white.

“Oh fuck, did you guys see that?”

You fight to gather your bearings as your pulse pounds viciously under your tongue. Your head rolls to the side in Suguru’s bed, a tear dripping down towards your temple, only to see Gojo staring at you in wide-eyed astonishment, his sucker hanging out of his mouth.

What does he have his phone out for?

The bed is still knocking noisily against the dorm room wall, but it’s surprisingly well in-time with the beat of the music that’s playing.

It smells like sex, and sweat, and weed.

And everything is so, so wet.

Your eyes flicker down your body towards Sukuna. It’s slick along the bottom of his tensed abs and both of your thighs; dripping down your skin and seeping into the duvet on Suguru’s bed.

Oh.

You’re not even sure if you properly came or not, but everything is light and heavy at the same time, torturous and divine. Your walls flutter around Sukuna’s cock all the same, and it leaves him stumbling over his words.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hips slamming down into yours. “So. F-fucking. Messy.”

He yanks you up into his arms, bouncing you on his cock as your arms wind themselves weakly around his neck. You have no strength in your grip, but he holds you tight. The loud lewd slap of skin on skin fills the room as he pummels into you relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck.” Sukuna thrusts up into you one last time as he cums, holding you down at the same time that he humps against your ass–his hips twitching as his cock gives a heavy throb buried inside of you. You feel hot and almost uncomfortably full; spend drips filthily out of your cunt around the base of his cock, though you can no longer tell what’s his, yours or Geto’s anymore.

It’s a finish befitting the show that you’d promised.

Sukuna sets you down gently, grunting slightly as his flagging cock slips out from the vice of your cunt. He rearranges your legs into a more comfortable position, and with a final affectionate pat on your ass, he stands from the bed.

Gojo whistles appreciatively as you recuperate, tucking his phone back into his pocket and shooting you a wink as your tired eyes flicker over to him. His glossy lips wrap around his lollipop, pushing the candy from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, as he watches you fight to keep your eyes open.

You lose the battle against your fluttering eyelids quickly, your vision going dark.

“Didn’t know she could squirt,” you hear Suguru say icily—but he sounds far away, like you’re overhearing the conversation from underwater.

Gentle hands ease your aching body up off of the bed, and something soft is wrapped around your shoulders. You burrow into it, eyelids fluttering but never quite lifting, as someone slips into place behind you, propping you up against their warm chest. You rest slack in their hold.

Your eyes peel open to see Sukuna pulling on his shirt on the other side of the room, his shoulder blades flexing as he lifts the tee up and tugs it over his head. He laughs, but it’s not a particularly friendly sound, as his head pops out through the neck hole. He claps a hand on Suguru’s shoulder, who stands beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The gesture is fraught with tension.

Sukuna shows a sharp, smug flash of teeth.

“Yeah,” he says, “and she lets me fuck her ass, too.”

The corner of Suguru’s nose twitches like he’s trying not to sneer.

You let your eyes close once more, though if you had the energy you’d be rolling them.

There’s a sudden knock at the boys' dorm room door.

It’s a single rap. Sharp. Irritated.

They don’t even bother trying to hide the weed, Sukuna—brazen as he is—actually tucks an unlit joint behind his ear as he kicks the towel away and pulls open the door.

“Yeah, what?” he asks the unsuspecting knocker brusquely, leaning indolently against the doorframe on one arm.

A tut of admonishment comes from the other side of Sukuna’s frame, followed by a beleaguered sigh.

“Do you guys mind? Some people in this building are trying to study while you’re in here—”

The familiar voice falters to a stop.

Sukuna laughs, nudging open the door a little bit wider so that the man on the other side can get a better view at what exactly it is that’s caught his attention.

Nanami’s eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him. You’re only half-conscious sprawled across Suguru's bed, naked save for Choso’s unzipped hoodie wrapped around you. Your head rests against the aforementioned man’s chest as he quietly strokes your side, trying to get you to take a drink from the room temperature bottle of water in his hand– though you’re more preoccupied with playing with his long, elegant fingers wrapped around it.

“Hi Ken,” you giggle weakly as your head lolls in his direction, perking up at his unexpected appearance.

Choso sets the bottle aside on Geto’s bedside table and holds your waist carefully as you push yourself up, like he doesn’t quite trust the way your limbs wobble underneath you as you shuffle towards the end of the bed near the door. You lean towards the two men in the doorway on your hands and knees, the hoodie on your frame falling open.

Kento swallows, not sure where to look, and the tips of his ears go pink.

You sit back on your haunches, knees parted, and you feel the slow ooze of cum as it drips out onto Suguru’s stained bedspread between your legs. You smile at him dazedly, titling your head to the side so the imprint of Geto’s teeth are on full display on the side of your marked up throat.

“Is it your turn now?”

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #kamo choso x reader #choso #gojo satoru #geto suguru #ryomen sukuna #jjk fic #jjk writing #writing

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2012wannabe · 6 months

Text

6. Dubcon

cw/tw: no outbreak, stepmom!abby, virgin/innocent reader, grooming, mommy kink

wc: 1378

an: is Abby a lesbian? Yes. Is she married to a man in this au? Also yes but just for useless plot purposes.

Walking through the door you sighed upon seeing a very particular set of keys on the ring. There was only one set, letting you know that your dad was out while your new stepmom Abby was home. You walked up the stairs, attempting to bypass your dad's room and not see her but to your annoyance you heard her voice calling you.

“How was your day sweetie?”

“Uh it was good.” You said shortly looking up her. She was different than all the other women your dad dated, but just personality wise but appearance wise. She was 5’8 which isn’t very tall, but coming from a very short family where the tallest man is 5’7 it was a big difference. She also had the most muscle mass you had ever seen on a woman. Her thighs were bigger than your head and her biceps bulged with every movement of her arms. Her personality matched her appearance, being strong willed and dominant while still being generous and kind to others.

“I’m glad to hear,” she said before pausing.

“How would you like to watch a movie, get in some bonding time?” She asked pursing her lips. You kind of liked that she made the effort to hang out with you even though you had just turned 18 and would be leaving your childhood home soon.

“Uh sure, let me just get settled.” You said, walking down the hall to your room. Entering the room, you plopped your things on your bed, slipped off your shoes and changed into one of your sleep shirts and a pair of shorts that barely covered your thighs.

“What movie are we watching?” You called.

“Some kind of wonderful! It was my favorite movie when I was your age.” She called back excitedly. Putting on your slippers, you went back down the hall and entered your dads room.

“When is my dad getting home?”

“He said he’s working until 6 so around 7.” She said popping in the DVD. You sat on the bed with her and being so close you started to realize just how much bigger she was. You felt tiny and that you paled in comparison to her. Instead of feeling intimated though, your brain felt kind of fuzzy. Her nature of causal touches, rubbing your arm, resting her hand on your back only made it worse. Your eyes trailed from the screen up at her, taking in the beauty of her features. You always thought she was pretty but never really studied her. Her eyes met yours and you quickly looked away embarrassed. Abby gave a laugh.

“You know,” she started.

“I realize that it must be weird to have a new step mom so late in your life but I do want us to keep the really good relationship we are starting have. You can take all the time you need but I want you to know that you can always come to me when you’re feeling down or just need some extra support.” Your face flushed and the moment made you weirdly emotional. You never really had any semblance of a normal mom, a good one. She smiled warmly and let you hug her, your arms wrapped around her middle. She kissed you on the forehead and you both cuddled together. Her strong arms held you close and still fighting off your emotions, you felt her hands slide up to patch of skin right underneath your breasts.

Another reason you had been so surprised when your dad brought her home is that she defied many stereotypes and roles that you grew up believing. Granted you were extremely sheltered and were homeschooled your entire life but it was a surprise nonetheless. Just like that moment, a swirl on confusion formed in your brain. Her fingers gently brushed the underside of your breasts and you heard her take a breath before saying,

“You trust me right?” You nodded and she continued to speak.

“How you do feel about me making you feel extra special?” Her fingers reached the hem of your sleep shirt and started to slip underneath.

“What are you doing?” She responded by ghosting the pads of her fingers over your nipples, tracing circles around them and twisting them. You instantly felt it in your cunt wetness pooling in your panties. She cupped your breasts, massaging the fat.

“Mmm, that’s it baby.” She cooed as you leaned into her moaning slightly.

“You can take off my shirt.” You whispered warning a grin from Abby. She slid the shirt off of you tossing it the side and pressing light kisses to your breasts.

“You’re perfect.”

“You like them?”

“I love them. You’re gorgeous.” She confirmed latching her mouth on one of your nipples while squeezing the other breast in her other hand. She swirled her tongue around it and it hardened allowing her to suck harder.

“Oh my god, Abby!” You moaned. She switched breasts and the other opposite treatment.

“I’ll give you more if you ask nicely.” She teased.

“Please Abby,” you begged.

“Please what?”

“You know…” you trailed off embarrassed.

“Make me feel nice.” You whispered, barely audible.

“Alright sweetheart,” she giggled.

“But remember this is our special secret, no one but us will ever know.”

“Ok.” Abby looked at you expectantly like she was waiting for you to finish your sentence. You looked at her confused,

“Ok…” she repeated, mouthing ‘mommy’ afterward.

“Ok mommy.” You said, the same feeling stirring in your cunt.

“Can mommy take off your shorts?” You nodded yes and she cooed slipping them off revealing a tiny black thong.

“Look how beautiful.” She mused. You yelped as you suddenly felt her hand collide with your ass slapping it.

“God.” Abby groaned. The movie still played quietly in the back long forgotten. She pushed you against the bed laying down on your back with your legs to the side and your hips up. She left the bed and retrieved something you couldn’t see before returning and showing off a strap on. An 8 inch black strap on dildo with a girth that instilled fear in your chest. You flushed with panic as she crawled on the bed.

“What’s that for?” She giggled,

“I’m going to show you how much I love you. Now, open your legs.”

“Wait, you’re going to put in there?” You asked.

“Yes, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s going to feel amazing baby I promise.”

“What if it doesn’t fit?” She laughed again.

“Of course it will fit. Just try to relax.” She said, letting her fingers drop down to your pussy.

“Gotta warm you up first.” She traced the the outline of your pussy letting your wetness soak your fingers.

“You’re so pretty.” She murmured before slowly pushing in one of fingers. Your body twitched and grabbed her forearm. The intrusion felt strange but not totally bad just a sting. She moved her finger around exploring and let a second finger work its way in.

“You’re so tight. Let it hurt a bit, it’ll feel so much better in just a moment.” She breathed. She lined up her strap with your pussy and pushed it in stretching you out. You gasped and curled forward groaning.

“Shhh it’s ok baby girl. Mommy’s got you, mommy’s got you.” She continued thrusting in and out.

“Hurts.”

“It’s ok, it’s gonna feel good I promise.” Abby cooed. The pain turned to pleasure as you started to gasp. Your grip on her tightened and you looked at her wildly for reassurance as you started to moan. Her thrusts got quicker and she bottomed out against your cervix. You let out another languid moan and your eyes rolled back.

“Ah wait, I have to pee. I have to pee-“ you said, your panic returning.

“You don’t have pee i promise.” She said.

“Let go, it’s gonna ok. Mommy promises.” Abby’s thrusts started to stutter and you go, squirting onto the bed sheets. You immediately started to apologize and she was quick to correct you.

“It’s perfectly normal, don’t worry about it. It’s okay.” Your eyes softly closed and she kissed your lips softly.

“Can I clean you up?” You nodded, watching her take a rag and wipe between your thighs.

“You’re such a good girl.”

#eliwrites #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #mommy kink #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x female reader #muscle mommy abby #abby anderson x you #abby anderson blurb #stepmom #abby anderson smut

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aanoia · 1 year

Note

heyy! Could you do a fic where reader try’s to kms and JJ walks in on her unconscious and he finds letters that reader wrote for him and the pogues so he’s in panic because he new about this but couldn’t do anything so he tries to wake her up and reader wakes up after half an hour in his arms and he’s crying

thanks!

I finally am getting it out haha! I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you for being patient, I made some adjustments to the request, I hope you're okay with them!

I can't lose my girl

JJ Maybank x reader

Summary; JJ finds his girlfriend in a horrifying state after wanting to spend the night with her

Warnings; suicide, OD, foaming at the mouth.

Words; 851

If you are struggling please reach out. To me, or someone you trust. I will sit and listen to your problems all night. Coming from someone who has attempted suicide and who self harmed for years, in the end it doesn't help much. I understand the feeling of thinking it will never get better, and even finding comfort in the pain, but please try to heal. I am here for everyone.

Excitement radiated through JJ’s body. He carefully held onto two full paper grocery bags and multiple DVDs as he walked along the path to his girlfriend's front door. He had been waiting for this day for what seemed like ages. It was a surprise he had planned and finally, her parents were out of town on a business trip and they could have the whole house just to themselves. They could do whatever they wanted. Of course movies and snacks were not the only thing on JJ’s agenda for the night, but he’d wait a little to get into the mood.

He balanced one of the bags on his knee and knocked on the door. As he waited he took a quick look around at the familiar scenery. It was dark out, as her parents hadn’t left until late. If her neighbors didn’t know who he was they would have called the cops on him while he was hiding behind a bush stalking the L/n family. A few moments passed and there was no answer so he knocked for the second time. Again, there was no answer and he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. It was unlocked.

“Y/n.” JJ called out as he sat down the bags and movies on the table. “Your favorite boy is here!” He began running up the stairs. “I figured since your parents are out of town we could have a night just for us two. How does that sound, huh?” He got to his girlfriend's door and gently pushed it open. “Y/n?” He asked quieter, afraid she was asleep. Instead, he found an empty room. No Y/n.

Five pieces of folded paper on the desk caught his attention and he walked over. They were letters, each had a different name on it. Each pogue's name was written in fancy handwriting, and one said mom and dad. JJ picked up the letter with two sparkly J’s. It was to him. He picked it up and carefully opened the letter. As he read, tears filled his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest as he clenched his fist and furrowed his brows. His soul left his body once he read the last sentence and he dropped the letter.

“Y/n?!” He yelled frantically, bolting out of the girls room and pushing open random doors in search of his girlfriend. “Y/n, where the fuck are you? This isn’t funny!” He shoved the bathroom door open and his heart dropped. There lay his beautiful girlfriend, limp and foaming at the mouth.

JJ rushed over to her and placed his fingers on her neck. She was clammy and her skin was a (if you have lighter skin, blueish purple, if you have darker skin grayish or ashen). A sigh of relief left JJ’s lips as he felt a pulse, however it was weak and erratic. He fumbled to get to his phone as tears spilled from his eyes.

“Shit, stay with me Y/n, stay with me baby.”

“911, what’s your emergency?” A voice asked.

“Uh, I need help, please, my girlfriend, she-she overdosed, I think. Please, help.” JJ begged with a shaky voice.

“Okay, sir, I understand this is frightening but please stay as calm as you can. What’s the address?”

“**********.”

“Okay, an ambulance is on it’s way. What is your name sir? And hers?”

“JJ, and she’s-she’s Y/n.”

“Okay, JJ, does she have a pulse?”

“Y-yes, she does, but barely, and-and it’s not, uh, it’s not regular.”

“Okay sir, help is on the way. Please stay with her until help arrives. Would you like to stay on the line?”

“Uh, it’s okay. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

JJ dropped his phone and cradled Y/n against his chest, silently praying to a God he didn’t believe in to save her. To just bring back Y/n. His Y/n. He placed tender kisses to the top of her head as if it would coax her out of a seemingly endless slumber. His fingers gently rubbed comforting circles to her hand as he waited for her to open her eyes with the beautiful smile he fell in love with and squeeze back.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered open and she squinted at the bright lights of the hospital. She looked to her side and guilt filled her body at the sight of JJ holding her hand with his head down.

“JJ?” Her hoarse voice asked and his head shot up. Y/n’s heart broke at the sight of his red eyes and tear stained cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She whispered as a tear fell from her eyes.

JJ sat up straight and pulled her into a hug, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Shh.” He rocked the two back and forth as she quietly cried. He pulled away and wiped the girls tears, “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. But next time you feel like this please, please talk to someone. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose my girl, okay?”

Y/n sniffled and nodded, “Okay.”

JJ smiled at her and hugged her again, “Okay.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x y/n #obx imagine #obx x reader #romance #aanoia #obx fic

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bouncybongfairy · 6 months

Text

Angels Like You

Loki x Fem Reader

Summary: After being pruned by the TVA, you were sent to The Void where you've lived ever since. During a storm Loki comes to your setup, seeking shelter. You allow him to stay and explain your nexus event to him.

Word Count: 2.0k

The context for this story: I based the reader's character after Sigyn who is the goddess of victory. In Norse Mythology, Sigyn is Loki's wife and is known for being extremely loyal. In Loki the mythical god's actual lore, after he kills the god Baldr he is banished to a cave where he is bound to rocks as a poisonous serpent drips venom onto his face until Ragnarok. Sigyn is so faithful she stays with Loki in this cave and holds a bowl above Loki's head to protect him from the venom. I based the reader's actions and relationship on the lore of Sigyn and Loki's romance if that makes sense; Thanks for reading!!

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sent to the void so long ago that it’s hard to remember what life was like beforehand. It was such a beautiful life, living on Asgard with your mother and sisters. Mother was a baker and made everything from sweet to savory and your father was a butcher. They were in love and always were, newlyweds by the time they were only 17. Everyone in the family helped out with the bakery, one of your favorite things to do was teach your younger sisters how to make different pastries. Taking care of the animals and interacting with so many locals. You threw another stick in the fire, trying to shake your head of all the memories. Your handmade shelter was holding up nicely from the storm currently roaring around you. While you were scavenging recently you found a mini DVD player among a bunch of rubbage. It had the movie Star Wars: Episode II Attack of the Clones which you’ve been watching on repeat ever since. It was comforting to you, especially because of how much the background looks like Asgard during certain points of the film. You had your legs kicked up, eating an unknown form of fruit that you picked earlier when you heard rummaging. You slowly start to get up not wanting to alert the potential threat. Arming yourself with your daggers, you get closer to the entrance of the shelter. Throwing the wooden door open you step in front of it. Unsurprisingly, a Loki stood in front of you smiling as if he was coming to ask for a cup of sugar. Instead of focusing on who was standing before the doorway, you whip your body around. The Loki that you saw was an illusion created to distract you, every single Loki you encountered did this so you were very familiar with this technique. You pressed the blade into his neck, causing him to raise his hands in defeat.

“How did you get my blades?” he asked, looking quite taken back.

“These are mine, not yours,” you replied flatly.

“How did you know I was coming,” he asked, most likely to stall.

“Because all Loki’s think they're clever by doing so, it’s like your party trick at this point. What is your business here?” you asked.

“Is that an Asgardian accent I recognize?” he said, dodging your question.

“What. Is. Your. Purpose. Here?” you ask, backing him against the wall and pressing the blade against his neck so hard that you caused a small scratch on his throat.

“Okay, cards on the table. I only came here looking for shelter from the storm. Truly had no ill intentions, could you please..?” he asked, insinuating for you to unarm yourself. You did pull the dagger away from his neck but kept them in each hand.

“I don’t believe you,” you said.

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” he said, sitting down and putting his hands in front of the fire, “you know you’re incredibly uncharismatic for a Loki,” he said, using magic to dry his clothes.

“I am not a Loki, and I never said you could stay here,” you said.

“Okay if you’re not a Loki then why do you have those daggers?” he asked.

“They belonged to a Loki and now they belong to me; end of story,” you said.

“Wasn’t aware it was pawning for a storytime,” he said giggling.

“Do you want to die,” you said, moving closer.

“You think you can kill me?” he asked.

“Me being able to kill you is irrelevant. I know I can keep you out of my hut, and I know that storm will have its way with you,” you said.

“Fair enough,” he said, putting his hands up playfully to surrender.

“Why are you wearing a TVA jacket?” you asked.

“I am a bit of a consultant, helping them with an inside look into the mind of a Loki,” he said.

After physically showing your disgust for his loyalty to the TVA through facial expressions. You started roasting a chicken over the fire that was in the center of the shelter. Loki again began to pry about the origins of your accent. You ignored his inquiries and turned the roasted chicken that was cooking above the fire. He was eyeing the food like a lion would a gazelle.

“I thought you worked for the TVA? Don’t tell me your wonderful new friends aren't feeding you,” you said flatly.

“Well you know sometimes missions go… askew if you will,” he chuckled then conjured himself a blanket.

“The TVA discarding lives at will? Can’t say I’m surprised,” you said.

“And what about you? Clearly, you're Asgardian so what was your nexus event?” he asked.

“I lived in the villages of Asgard, my family and I lived comfortably. My mother and father ran a foodery. They were given the opportunity to work in the castle’s pantry. Without a second thought, they took the opportunity, especially because it meant proper education for my sisters and me. We were shocked to see the interior of the castle. I couldn’t stop laughing because of how mesmerized I was,” you said, turning the chicken again, “as my sister and I lost our minds, the queen came around the corner. My mother was so upset that she saw me acting foolish, she pinched my forearm so hard it bruised. She took us to our separate rooms before showing my parents around. I didn’t want to be in separate rooms, in our old home, the room we shared was so small and the sudden change was jarring. Once I was alone in my room I broke down into tears, I was only 13 and it was all so overwhelming.” You moved the chicken away from the fire onto a makeshift table. Ripping one of the legs off and setting it on a chipped plate. Loki thanked you before you even handed it to him. After taking a few bites, he stared at you, waiting for you to continue.

“The next day things were getting easier. I came out of my room and saw a snake slithering outside my door. I picked it up and began talking to it, saying things like ‘If someone else would have found you, they’d make you lunch’ or ‘let's get you out of here before you’re killed’ but after I set it free, Loki shapeshifted out of his snake form. The first thing I noticed were his eyes, they were so bright and his pupils were wide.

“I was uh- trying to scare you but when you picked me up I had to wait till you set me down to shapeshift back,” he explained.

“Why would I be scared of a creature that is simply existing?” you asked.

“You have a point there,” he said laughing, which caused you to join him.

“After that encounter, it was like we couldn’t stop bumping into each other. Everywhere you went, he'd always end up stopping by even just to share a quick glance with each other. Eventually, things got more serious, and we’d both sneak out to meet each other in the library. Loki loved the library, he explained that when he was to rule Asgard, he’d make his soldiers study basic battle strategy and geography to ensure his glorious purpose wasn’t to be wasted. I always loved romance novels which irritated him beyond no end. One that you remember was about a young king named Angus who was turned to stone by Medusa. His queen Rose was wrapped in his arms when turned, he was protecting her. He thought if he shielded the queen from the serpent's view and it did. The queen could have escaped but she would’ve needed to shatter her king’s stoned body. He was gripping her so tightly that the stone was rubbing her skin raw, but she was so touched that in his last moments, he wanted to be as close as he could to her. The love she had for him was so strong that she couldn’t bring herself to it. So she died in his arms. Aphrodite was so moved by the queen's sacrifice that she turned her body into a rose bush with thorns that completely wrapped around him. To protect his stoned body so she could be with him forever. Loki would poke up and talk about how no king would ever do that. Even if he was right, it didn’t stop you from reading them obsessively.

The night before my 14th birthday, Loki appeared at my window wanting to talk.”

Flash Back:

“I have something to show you,” he said, taking you by the hand and helping you climb down from your window.

When you got to the bottom, there was a black horse that Loki helped you on. You were scared of getting in trouble but he insisted that nobody would notice. This is when you knew feelings were starting to develop, at least on your end. At first, you were scared to fully wrap your arms around him. He reached behind him and pulled you by your arms closer to him. You now had your cheek pressed against his back, watching his long black hair bounce as the horse galloped. You guys were getting deeper and deeper into the forest, starting to see more animals and thicker trees. When you guys finally stopped, it was starting to rain quite hard. He grabbed you by the waist and helped you down from the huge stallion. Taking you by the hand he began leading you to a cave that was nearby. At first, you were reluctant to go into this dark and foreign entryway. Loki dried your clothes and conjured a lantern. When he lit the cave up with light from the lantern you couldn’t believe your eyes. The cave had rose vines on every section of the wall. Your hand immediately threw your hand over your mouth.

“Like in that book you love, when I found it I knew I had to show you. I know it’s not much-” you interrupted him by pulling him into a hug.

“This is amazing, thank you for bringing me here to see this,” you said.

“I actually didn’t bring you here only to see it,” he said, pulling the book out of his saddle bag.

The cave’s floor was covered in long grass, which made it very comfortable when sitting on the ground. Loki’s back was pressed against a portion of the wall that he cleared of vines and thorns. You were your back against Loki’s chest as you read aloud to the book. You kept stuttering over words at first, being distracted and flustered. Eventually, you settled and were able to read fluently through the story. You guys stayed there until it began to rise, and right before you parted ways to separate bedrooms you shared a chaste kiss. Ever since that night, you knew Loki was the love of your life. The connection that was growing was strong and undeniable. It remained that way even after time aged the two of you. By the time you guys were 18 the love between the two of you was still as fresh as the roses in the cave. A wedding was being planned and the energy in the air was euphoric. Both of your families were healthy, the kingdom was thriving and you loved each other. Long story short: Baldr invaded Asgard. Loki killed him and saved so many people's lives yet he was punished. Banished to the very cave where your love blossomed in, only now the roses were all dead, yet the thorns remained. When you saw him, he was passed out from the pain. A serpent was suspended above his head, dripping its toxic venom onto his skin. You refused to leave his side, at first he would scream for you to leave. Not wanting your mind to be poisoned by the pain of seeing him so weak. You comforted him and held his head with one hand and used the other to hold out a bowl, catching the venom. You weren’t sure how much time passed, but one day you couldn’t stand the thought of living this way. For your love to be punished for doing what he believed to be right by his people. You noticed Loki still had his two daggers tucked into his pant-line. Knowing you would have to be quick, you emptied the bowl of venom and quickly grabbed his daggers. Using your own head to cover Loki’s body from the venom you start attacking the snake. After severing its head, you passed out from how bad the venom burned your skin. When you woke up Loki was already causing Ragnarok, he had so much pent-up rage. The timekeepers found me and when I was at the TVA pleading for answers, they told me certain events on my timeline needed to play out before Loki was released. Because you were the one who released him, they blamed it on you.

End of Flashback

The Loki you’d just met was looking at you with a pitiful expression. You noticed he picked his chicken clean which made you chuckle.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Not your fault,” you said.

“I know but, that’s one of the most heinous stories about survivors of the TVA,” he said.

“I’m glad you liked the chicken. I’m going to bed,” you said, setting your cot up.

“Is it okay if I stay?” Loki asked.

“If you stop asking questions then yes,” you said, extinguishing the fire and going to sleep.

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