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milkpup · 4 months

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｡⋆ʚ♡ bad luck comes in threes (and in me)

›› nsfw 18+ / 3 part fic

@ace_343 on twt

ch 2 ♡ ch 3

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› naoya zenin x f!reader ›› megumi fushiguro x f!reader ›› toji fushiguro x f!eader ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi / megumi x f!reader x toji ›› naoya x f!reader x megumi + toji ›› started: 1/12/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are close friends. He invites you to his family's estate where you start to notice how bad your luck really is.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, pseudo-incest (they all want y/n, not eachother), harsh language, abuse, power imbalance, dubious consent / rxpe / noncon

‹𝟹 tags: AGED UP CHARACTERS!, au - no deaths, au - toji and megumi are part of zenin clan still, power imblance, degradation, choking, loss of virginity, name calling, pet names, some fluff and LOTS OF SMUT, slight angst, all the zenins want you basically, vaginal, blow jobs, cunnilingus, face sitting, 4some, mdom, fsub, pseudo-incest, meet the family, breeding, cum as lube, cum swapping, light blood, aggressive choking, will update tags as more is added, praise, being called a good girl

‹𝟹 notes: this is a long time in the making. i probably started this fic over a month ago >< i've been working on it more than my lfls fic that i like more. just smthn abt naoya...... (usually i prefer naoya to be subby but this fic is diff oopsies :3!). lmk what y'all think.i'll be updating my other fic real soon but for now, crumbs of this i guess LOL. i was originally going to do a oneshot but it was already starting to get long and i hadn't even progressed much in the plot i have written up x-x so i figured i'd do 3 chaps since it's like the theme >:3 hope y'all like it!!!

i'll be updating tags as it progresses. i'm super excited abt this fic even tho it's like 99% smut. (idk how to write stuff w/o smut oops) what can i say??? 🤌

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 1: Exposed

“So, do you think you can make it?” Megumi asks, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at you inquisitively. “To my family event, the reunion thing, I mean.”

You hadn’t thought about it much. Sipping on your tea, you contemplated. You’ve never met Megumi’s extended family; you had no idea what they would be like. Megumi’s family is huge, and it would be a multi-day event held at their estate. “Oh, what the hell. I have nothing better to do during winter break anyways.”

His face lights up a bit at your confirmation, but Megumi tries his hardest to hide it. You can see the blush creeping across his nose, his cheeks, even reaching the tips of his ears. He was like a little puppy, excited to see you.

“Make sure to bring any nice clothes you want to wear, but there will be pajamas and toiletries provided to you.” He finished his drink and moved to throw his away. “Are you done too?”

You felt bad, you had a little bit of your tea left and he was patiently waiting for you to finish to throw your trash away for you. You hurriedly suck up the remainder of the tea through the straw, and hand him the empty cup. “Thanks, Megs.” You chirp.

Megumi blushes and looks away as he takes your cup from your hands.

You’re back at your house, frantically packing last minute before Megumi comes over to pick you up. You’ve always been an overpacker, and you have no idea what to expect. You throw all sorts of garments into a pile that you want to take: casual clothes like leggings and hoodies, dresses and formalwear, and intimates. You blush, picking up matching sets of underwear and bras. You decide to toss them onto the pile anyways, better prepared than not. You didn’t know who you were “preparing” for, but felt your cheeks flush anyways. I’m meeting my close friend’s extended party and I’m packing lingerie, am I a fucking creep? You shake your head, trying to shake the thoughts out too.

You finish stuffing your clothes into your bags, packing some makeup and skincare that they probably wouldn’t have available. Just as you finish zipping your second bag, you hear a loud knock on the front door. It’s Megumi.

You open the door with a soft smile, greeting Megumi. “Thanks for picking me up Megs! Can you help me with my other bag?”

He looks down to where you’re gesturing, noticing the other bag. “Jeez ____, it’s a 3 day party. How many clothes do you need?”

You blush, sheepishly. “I just want to be prepared… y’know?” Megumi huffs and groans before picking up both bags. A lady should never have to carry her own bags, and he noticed it seemed like you were struggling with how heavy these bags were, being packed to the absolute brim.

“T-thanks, Megs.” You croak out as you follow behind him to his car. He doesn’t reply, hoisting your bags in the trunk before slamming it shut. You open the door and sit in the passenger side, buckling your seatbelt with an audible click. He gets in shortly after you, adjusting his seatbelt and turning the car on.

The silence is thick, but not awkward. You and Megumi were comfortable around each other, not requiring a word to be said as you sat in comfortable silence on the drive to his family’s estate. Your curiosity got the better of you, and you ask Megumi, breaking the silence, “So what are the plans for the event? How big is it going to be, anyways?”

Megumi answers you, not taking his eyes off the road. “It will have pretty much my entire family, extended family, and family friends. There’s lots to do at our estate, from the gardens, movie room, bar room, and more. As for planned events, music and lots of food, maybe dancing?” His tone ends questioningly, he knows his family isn’t particularly fond of frivolous activities like dancing, but there might still be some as more people loosen up.

You nod, taking in his answer. This sounds almost a little exciting. Much better than spending time holed up in your room, studying or watching youtube.

Megumi pulled up to the grandiose estate. “Wow Gumi, I knew your family was loaded…. But not THIS loaded,” You gasped in awe. The entire property was large enough to be a mini village. You were shocked, to say the least. The beautiful landscaping, trees, the koi pond that connected into a river surrounding the main building… it was all too beautiful.

“Yeah, they are wealthy on a whole different level,” he responds, as he pops the trunk and retrieves your bags. “Usually they have servants around, but I’ll show you around the estate myself instead.” He starts walking towards the front entrance, you follow him closely behind, not wanting to get lost.

Megumi doesn’t even have to open the door, servants inside let him in as soon as he approaches. He briskly walks along the pavilion, turning left towards a long corridor. You try to match pace, but his long legs gives him an advantage. You take this moment, a few paces behind Megumi, to admire his raven locks bouncing as he walked.

As you’re walking, you pass an entryway, seeing a few figures to your right. Someone clicks their tongue. “I see my cousin Megumi understands,” he starts, eyes following your figure as you walk past him, “that a woman’s place is three steps behind a man’s.” This mysterious man, related to Megumi, smirks as your figure disappears.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s so full of shit it’s festering,” Megumi spits out. He seems to really hate whoever that guy was. Megumi leads you to a room down a quiet corridor and opens the door. “This will be your room for the next few nights,” He announces as he enters the room and sets your bags down. “My room is on the other side of the estate. These are the guest rooms. We can check mine out later, if you’re interested.” He flushes at that last part, looking down and uncomfortably shifting his weight. “Anyways, I have to clean up before dinner in an hour. I’ll be back to see you soon.’

Megumi retreats from your room and closes the door behind him. You decide to unpack, putting things in the drawers and hanging some items in the closet. The room was quite spacious, with its own bathroom attached and adjacent to this room.

You haven’t finished unpacking yet but decided to take a quick shower just to freshen up. You scope out the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind you. Turning the shower on to a scalding hot temp, you wait for it to heat up as steam fills the bathroom. You strip and enter the shower.

He stalks the hallway you were walking through but a moment ago. He’s insanely curious as to what you look like up close, intrigued by your fleeting form as you walked by behind Megumi. He wondered if you were his toy, you following Megumi like a puppy definitely gave off that message.

He can still smell a lingering scent of citrus and flowers. He knows it’s you, because women of the clan are usually not permitted to walk this side of the estate anyways. He’s following your trail, like a predator following its prey. He sees the faint glow of light coming from the crack of a door and approaches it.

He knocks once. No response. He knocks twice. Still nothing. Naoya Zenin believed he was a gentleman, but he had his limits. This was his future estate, he believed he had every right to know every single thing going on under this roof.

He lets himself in, and immediately sees the cracked bathroom door, a bit of steam escaping. He hears you humming while taking a shower, and smirks. He silently closes the door, and makes his way towards your plush bed. He sees a bag open, clothes strewn about. Something frilly and lacy catches his eye, and he walks towards the table instead. He picks the article of clothing up, noticing he was holding a black thong, laces and bows, adorned with gems along the thin waistband. He licked his lips, unholy thoughts flooding his brain.

He hears you shut off the shower, and quickly pockets the garment, swiftly moving to sit on the edge of the bed. A few moments pass, and the door of the bathroom swings open. Steam floods your room, quickly dissipating. You have a towel wrapped around your body, still humming as you walk towards your pile of clothes. You had set a specific set on top to put on after your shower. You could have sworn the thong was there, but as you rummaged through your bag the garment was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for these, little miss?” You gasp and turn around to see a man sitting on your bed, holding up your thong with 1 finger, while smirking and eyeing you down. You nearly drop your towel, but regain composure.

“Who are you?” You ask, unsure of why a strange man you’ve never seen before let himself into your room.

“My apologies, doll, I didn’t mean to scare you. My name is Naoya Zenin. I’m set to be the next heir of the clan and estate,” he smirks, “And I figured I should personally introduce myself to you. It would be impolite of me not to do so. Who are you?”

“I’m _____, Megumi’s friend. He invited me over to meet all his family.” His ears perked up at you mentioning your friendship with Megumi, a devious thought crossing. You were still in your towel, cold air further cooling your already wet skin.

“You didn’t answer my first question, little miss. Were you planning on wearing these?” He practically spins the panties around his finger, staring you down intently. “I didn’t think such a good girl would bring something like this to wear when meeting her friend’s family…” He trails off.

A blushes creeps along your face, you didn’t think someone would know. You didn’t think someone would barge into your room, look through your clothes, and tease you about it. You couldn’t even look Naoya in the eye, shame clearly on display on your features.

“Don’t worry, woman, I won’t tell anyone. You wouldn’t want your close friend, Megumi, to know about this right? I won’t tell; however, my silence has a price.” He finishes his comment, smirking at you. His sultry gaze was locked on you, scanning your body from head to toe. He grinned and licked his lips, thinking about how he could manipulate you.

“What do you mean?” You look up at him, confused and unsure about the situation. “What do I have to do?” At that question, Naoya lifts himself from your bed to make his way towards you. His gaze never once leaving yours, making intense eye contact that sent shivers down your spine and left you trembling. You felt like prey being stalked by a predator.

Naoya is right in front of you now, as he grabs both wrists with his hands and lifts them above your head. You’re startled but have no time to react as he pushes you against a wall, wrists pinned above you. You can feel Naoya’s hot breath tickling your cheek, making you lose all sense of rationality. He grins at you, looking down as he has you in a position you can’t easily free yourself from. Your head hangs low, looking down, trying to stifle your heavy breathing. You don’t want him to know his actions are affecting you.

“I know women are dumb, but seriously, how can you not know what I mean? At least you’re pretty….” He leaves his sentence unfinished, bringing a cold hand to your chin and tilting your head to look at him. “Little miss, I’ll explain it to you once, in an easy way to understand. I want to use you. Your body, specifically. Will you be a good girl and let me? Or do you want me to make you.” Naoya’s tone drops a bit, almost grunting at the end. Thoughts about what “using you” entails floods your mind. You’re inexperienced, but not entirely clueless. Your blush deepens as you look into his eyes, now peering down at you.

You didn’t think being degraded and praised in the span of a few seconds would entice you as much as it would. Normally you’re a very independent woman, fully capable of realizing your own dreams and pursuing your own goals. But something… something about being put down but also called a good girl sent you driving up the wall with insanity. You were hooked near instantly.

“Yes sir,” you meekly respond, looking up at Naoya. Your emotions and lust are on clear display for him, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Good girl.” He smirks. “Just to be clear, I have very specific tastes and like to be pleased in a certain way. Try and make me proud, you dumb whore.” Your cheeks flared red at the insult. “Open your mouth, cunt.”

You made no hesitation to fulfill his command. He still had a firm grip on your chin, leaning down as he spit into your mouth. “Swallow, princess.” He instructs as he pushes your mouth closed. You comply, feeling more heat pooling between your legs. “Good girl,” he purrs as you open your mouth to show him.

He leans back into you, lips crashing into yours. He nips at your bottom lip, drawing a tiny bit of blood as he goes back to kissing you. He can taste the blood mixed with both of your saliva as he forces his tongue into your mouth, trying to push his way into every part of you he can. His hand previously at your chin is moving down toward your neck, resting into a firm grip across your neck. You can still breathe, but the firm pressure while he’s sloppily kissing you elicits a few soft moans from you into his mouth. You can’t tell, but he’s grinning as his grip increases a bit. He pulls away before taunting you, “Do you like that? Huh? Are you a masochist or something?” He’s not relenting, grip strengthening as you’re looking up at him, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

You’re unable to speak, so you try to nod your head to show him that he’s right. He notices and loosens his grip before moving his hand towards your chest. “Good girl,” he praises you. “I like that.” He leaves kisses in a trail from your lips to your neck, kissing over the faint marks his hands left before. You’re still against the wall, hands above your head, and he released his other grip before picking you up and carrying you to your bed.

“Next time, I want to see you wear that slutty fucking lingerie you brought. You’re such a dirty girl.” He peers down at you as you’re left exposed on your bed. He’s crawling above you, pushing you into the mattress. He gives you a few impatient kisses before moving back to your chest, grabbing one of your breasts while his mouth moves to the other. His other hand is fervently roamed your body, moving down your tummy towards your hips and eventually resting on your thigh. His hands were soft but rough trailing along your skin, as if he was searching for something.

Naoya’s hand slips to your inner thigh, just shy of your exposed cunt. He lightly grips it as he starts leaving a trail of kisses down your body as he took his hand from your breast and pushed your thighs apart. He left love bites and marks as he made his way to your cunt, stopping to look up at you. He grinned as he spit on one of his fingers, prodding its way through your folds to find your clit. He’s been with many women, and although he has an arrogant attitude, he does know exactly how to please a woman.

He rubs circles around your clit as his mouth leaves a little bite mark against your inner thigh. You softly moan at the pain as Naoya’s eyes flick up to meet yours. Although you can’t see it, you’re sure he has that asshole smirk of his. Your suspicions are pretty much confirmed when he says “Are you some masochist? Some dumb bitch who likes to be hurt. For real?” You think you heard a laugh as he moved his finger down to your hole, spitting some more before he fucked you with a finger. You didn’t need any more lube, you were practically drenched. He pushed his finger in, feeling how tight your hole was with only one of his fingers.

“You have the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt. I’m impressed. Are you a virgin too?” He looked up at you, expecting an answer.

“Yeah..” You tried to hide your face with your hands, embarrassed at your lack of experience. Naoya saw it differently though. His cock twitched in his pants as you replied, and he started moving his finger inside your tight cunt. He loved hearing the little moans you make as he slipped his finger in and out, a lewd wet sound filling the room. He was trying to get you used to it, but he was getting impatient. He was already working harder for any woman he’s ever been with.

His mouth moved above your clit, tongue flicking around the sensitive bud as he slipped in another long finger into your hole. He curled and scissored his fingers, trying to stretch you as his fingers fucked you faster. Your face was flush with embarrassment as you still tried to contain some of your moans. One more finger slipped in, stretching your walls while he moved above you, face aligned with yours.

He kept fingering your cunt as he aggressively kissed you, biting your lip before he shoved his tongue into your mouth. You could feel yourself come closer to the edge, your core tightening. You were moaning into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck pulling his body closer into yours.

“Fuck... Naoya…” you whined out as you felt the thread about to snap, “I’m gonna—cum!!” His fingers slammed into your cunt as he was leaving marks along your neck. You felt your walls tighten around his fingers as he expertly prepped your cunt for the main event.

“You’re such a good girl… I almost feel bad taking your virginity. Almost.” Naoya takes out his fingers, sucking on a few of them to taste you. He pushes one of his fingers into your mouth, commanding you to taste your own cunt. “Next time I’ll taste you myself… but I can’t wait any longer,” he says as he’s taking off his shirt and pants, pulling down his briefs to expose his large cock. He moves up above you again, grabbing your legs by the ankle as his body is pushed against yours. He’s putting you in a mating press. He moves the tip to your entrance and spits on his cock before slowly pushing inside, feeling your tight walls around his girthy cock.

He gives you time to adjust, but it isn’t nearly enough. Naoya has been kind enough, but he always takes what he wants. Still, he will be nice one last time. “I’m gonna fuck you how I want to now, okay whore? You’re gonna be a good girl and take it anyways, right?” He gives you no time to prepare as he slams into you, bottoming out, forcibly deflowering you. The pain hurts, but Naoya is relentless. He pulls out and briefly gives you a moment of respite before slamming his cock back into your cunt. Despite the pain, the feeling is like never before as his body is pushed against yours, cock ramming in and out of your hole. Your cute moans are like music to his ears.

He leans down towards your face, seeming like he’s going to kiss you but instead spits on you. He moves a hand to grasp around your throat as you’re looking up at, unable to make any sound as his cock abuses your hole. The pressure and lack of air make your head feel dizzy as he spits again, degrading you. “You like that too, huh, stupid slut.” He hips pick up speed, pulling out before repeatedly bottoming out into your cunt. He lets go of your neck, allowing you to gasp for air. He would never admit it, but the sound of you struggling to breathe drives him insane.

He spits on his hand and moves it to your clit, fervently rubbing your bud, bringing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. You feel the waves of pleasure overwhelm your body as he’s raw dogging your cunt and relentlessly abusing your clit. Your moans are laced with pleasure, dripping with your ecstasy as you cum over Naoya’s cock, tightening your walls around him.

Naoya mercilessly fucks your virgin hole like he deserves it, like it’s owed to him. Whatever he wants, he gets. He’s grunting as moaning as he picks up speed, fucking you like an animal. “Hey bitch, ah fuck—I’m gonna cum in you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl alright?” He lightly slaps your face as he’s finishing his sentence, bottoming out for the last time before he slams back inside your cunt and paints your insides white. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you; there’s so much of it that it leaks out, a lewd sight before Naoya as he looks down at where you’re both connected. Before he can pull out and clean himself, the door to the guest room slightly creaked open as if it had been left ajar, not fully closed. Naoya cursed himself for not closing and locking the door.

Megumi had been standing there for not even 5 minutes when he went to check on you and bring you to dinner. He was approaching your room when he heard faint moaning coming from your room. He was confused and curious, stopping in front of your door as he noticed it was left slightly open. What he saw left him shocked and speechless, unable to move or avert his gaze through the crack.

He heard you more than he could see you clearly, but your moans that are more beautiful than a symphony of angels was more than enough to make Megumi’s cock strain in his pants. He peered closer, unable to see who was fucking you but still able to see your bodies colliding. He couldn’t deny how erotic it was to see you get fucked, but a twang of jealousy and pain struck his heart that he wasn’t the one making your body shake in pleasure.

He hears a voice, it sounds familiar although he can’t quite place it, telling you he’s about to cum. Megumi leans forward more, slightly pushing the door as he watches the other man breed you. Just as the door squeaks, the man’s head whips to see the door and he makes eye contact with Megumi.

“____, what are you doing?” Megumi questions as he practically stumbles into the room. You lift your head to see Megumi looking at you and Naoya in horror. Shame and embarrassment overcome you, and you move to cover yourself with some blankets as Naoya got off of you and faced Megumi,

“I think it’s more appropriate to ask what are you doing, Megumi?” Naoya’s staring daggers into Megumi; he’s unaffected that his family member caught him in a compromising position, almost as if he’s used to it.

“I was coming to get ___ for dinner… I didn’t realize she was busy being a disgusting fucking whore and sleeping with my family though.” He looks over to you, making eye contact as he sees tears form in the corners of your eyes. He doesn’t actually think you’re disgusting, quite the opposite in fact. But he’s so upset that someone else got to be with you first, and Naoya of all people. As if that scum deserved to be with someone like you.

Naoya could instantly tell what was going on here. He can read Megumi like a book, and smirks as he grabs fistfuls of your hair and pulls you against his chest to taunt Megumi. “Looks like you lost. This is why I’ve always been superior to you. You wanted this little slut, huh? Mad that I broke her in first, aren’t you?” His voice is laced with amusement as he provokes Megumi. He pulls your head to be almost level with his as he spits onto your face. “Your little friend is quite the slut, I had a lot of fun using her like the whore she is. She probably wouldn’t even mind if you joined in, isn’t that right bitch?”

Despite the predicament you were in, you couldn’t help but feel aroused at Naoya’s manhandling and suggestion of Megumi joining in. It had never crossed your mind, although Megumi is quite attractive, you didn’t think he was interested. You were only able to mutter out a small “yes” as you look over to Megumi, noticing the flush in his cheeks reaching all the way to the ends of his ears, and the straining bulge in his pants.

“I’m sorry, ___... Be good for me, please?” He was almost pleading as he was walking over to the bed, already starting to strip.

“You can hurt her and call her names, that dumb whore likes it.” Naoya says, moving aside to let Megumi have easier access to you. You’re still lying on your back, barely recovered from getting your guts rearranged only minutes before. Megumi stands in front of you before kneeling down to get at eye level with your cunt. Naoya hadn’t been able to get up since Megumi stumbled into the room; because of this, your womb was filled to the brim with Naoya’s hot cum leaking out of your small hole. Megumi’s eyes were immediately locked on at the lewd sight before him when he used both hands to grip your thighs and spread them apart.

He moved a slender finger past your leaking hole, scooping a bit of cum up with his fingers as he dragged his finger across your clit. The sharp inhale and moan you made sounded absolutely divine to Megumi, urging him to keep going. “Good girl…” he purrs, as he moves his long fingers down to your hole again, once again scooping another glob of cum. “Sit up, slut,” He commands as he stands up. You comply, not willing to play any games in a situation like this. He shoves his cum covered fingers into your mouth; you lap it up and suck his fingers without having to be told anything. Megumi grins. “Good girl, ____. Such a good girl.”

“I bet you like that, don’t you slut?” You hear Naoya’s remark from aside you, he’s watching all of this unfold right before him. Megumi takes his fingers out of your mouth, Naoya grips you with fistfuls of hair and forces you to look at him. “Answer me, bitch.” He glares at you intensely.

“Yes… yes sir… I do.” You try to look anywhere except him but Naoya isn’t having it.

“When men are speaking, you show them the respect they deserve. That means you answer clearly and fucking pay attention. Got it?” He tugs your head to face him, leaning in closer until he’s only a few inches from your face. “Open your mouth, bitch. And don’t swallow until I tell you to.” You comply and he spits into your mouth, before closing the gap and letting his lips crash into yours. He bites your lip, drawing blood. The metallic essence mixes with his spit before Naoya leans back and instructs you to swallow. It feels perverse and humiliating to admit that it turned you on.

Megumi dropped onto his knees again, this time pushing his slender fingers into your cunt. It feels different this time for you; he’s gentler as he stretches you open. He takes his time adding more fingers, taking in every moment and feeling.

“Let’s change the position, yeah Megumi?” Naoya says it more as a statement and less of a question as he’s already moving to rest on the bed against the wall, pillows propping him up. He pulls you away from Megumi while simultaneously flipping you onto your tummy. He pulls you into his lap, supporting your arms until you’re able to prop yourself up above his cock. One hand grips the back of your head and pulls you closer to his thick cock. He pulls you by your hair, aligning your mouth with the tip of his cock as he forcefully shoves your head down. You nearly gag, pushing against him as he tries to use your mouth. Despite your resistance, Naoya doesn’t seem to care and is chasing his own high using you to get him off. You take him into your mouth, inexperienced but trying to adjust quickly. Naoya gives you barely any time to try and settle within the rhythm he’s created. You basically gag on his cock every time he plunges it slightly deeper than the last, but this only enhances Naoya’s pleasure.

While Naoya’s aggressive use of your mouth is going on, Megumi is taking his time to explore you from behind. His fingers are touching every part of your body he can get to, settling on your ass that he starts to spread apart. He’s entranced by the glistening of your cunt in the light, lost in thought about how lewd you look taking Naoya’s cock while bent over for him like a full course meal. He’s done with his “inspection” and moves one of his slender fingers to your entrance. He slips it in easily, listening to you moan with a cock stuffed in your mouth. Naoya pushes your head down farther along his length, trying to hit the back of your throat. You try to control your breathing in time with his rhythm.

Megumi slips another finger inside, stretching your cunt. “Fuck, ____, I didn’t think you were this tight.” He groans as he starts fucking you with his fingers. The lewd sounds he forces out you vibrate around Naoya’s cock. His other hand is grabbing fistfuls of your hair, face fucking you harder as your dripping cunt takes another of Megumi’s fingers. Megumi picks up pace, bringing another hand to your clit to add extra stimulation, but mostly so he can see you writhe and squirm under him while trying to hold yourself up.

“Will you be a good girl for me and cum, ___?” Megumi coos, stringing you along with his praises. “You look like such a dirty girl right now, already about to cum with just my fingers. So cute.” He finger fucks you harder now, making lewd wet noises as his fingers slam back into your pussy. His other hand is toying with your clit, drawing circles and rubbing the little button to bring you closer to your ecstasy. You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach, feeling yourself be pushed over the edge with his fingers alone.

Naoya thrusts into your throat, choking you and momentarily leaving you without air as Megumi pushes you over the edge. You feel your cunt tighten around his fingers as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the lack of air adding to your heightened senses. You moan as you’re cumming, giving just enough sensation to Naoya for him to creampie your throat. His cum is being forced down your throat, yet there’s still so much that some leaks from the corners of your mouth as his cock is pushed against the back of your throat. He finally shows mercy and pulls out as you’re coming down from your high. You force yourself to as much as you can before gasping for air, panting as you trying to calm down again.

“You did a good job taking all of me, slut.” Naoya grins as he lifts your chin with one of his fingers, leaning down to give you a kiss as you share his cum in your mouth. You didn’t think he’d be into some perverted shit like that, yet he’s basically tongue fucking your mouth still full of his cum. He pulls away, a long string of saliva and cum still connecting you two.

Megumi watches you two, his cock throbbing so intensely it almost hurts. He wastes no time in pulling his pants and boxers down before spitting in his hand and lubing his cock up. He’s shuffling behind you, lining himself up with your cunt before he pushes in at full force, giving you no time to adjust to his monstrous cock. You let out a yelp, air evacuating your lungs at the surprise intrusion. He’s balls deep near instantly in your tight hole, stretching you open with a cock that is even girthier than Naoya’s.

Naoya is watching you, grinning, and lazily stroking his cock. You have no idea how he’s able to keep going for multiple rounds, only a little bit of time in between. But you don’t care. The man in front of you is irresistibly hot even though his attitude is garbage. You would do anything he asked no matter how degrading it is in hopes that he would manhandle you again. As these thoughts cross your mind, Megumi reels you back into reality as he pushes so deep into your womb you’re sure he probably bruised your cervix.

“Your pussy is amazing, sweetheart. You have no idea… hah.. how long I’ve been wanting this.” Megumi praises you, unable to control his breathy moans as he continues fucking you with full force. One of your arms is pulled to your side, Megumi interlocking fingers and holding your hand as he drills into you. Even in a situation like this, he can’t help but do some cute shit.

His other hand lightly smacks your ass as you whimper in pleasure, unable to hide the fact that you like it a little rough. Megumi lets go of your hand as you feel both his arms snake around your waist, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks you. Your back is to his chest, on full display for Naoya in front of you. His shiteating grin is plastered on his face as he has a front row view of Megumi’s cock sliding in and out of you. He gets up from his seated position to face you. Megumi’s arms are still wrapped around your body, supporting you as he drills into your cunt. You can feel his breath against your neck and hear his soft whimpers in your ear. “You’re doing so well, slut. Such a good girl for me huh?” He whispers into your ear. His words send chills down your spine as he keeps ramming his cock into you, abusing your poor hole.

Naoya moves closer to you, his face only a few inches away from yours. He kisses you slowly, before aggressively trying to fill your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away, spits on your face, and lightly slaps your face. “You love taking your friend’s cock, huh? Didn’t think it would be that good, did you? Who knew you’d be the family’s fuckdoll.” He chuckles at his degrading joke, but you couldn’t help but internalize his words. You have no idea how you got to be in this situation, but you were definitely not complaining. Something about multiple men of the same family using you how they liked made your cunt drip at the mere thought of it.

Naoya moves his mouth to your neck, leaving little marks on your skin to prove he was there. Little bruises of his lust for you, marking your skin like you’re property. Megumi start pulling out with only the tip left inside, before bottoming out into your cunt. He groans beside you, lost in the addictive pleasure that is you. Megumi was no virgin, but he believed you were the best person he’s ever fucked, your body insanely attractive and your personality catching and reeling him, unable to resist you.

Naoya moves back before bringing a hand to your neck, gripping your throat and momentarily cutting off your oxygen. “Megumi… fuck this bitch harder when I choke her, okay? She fucking loves it.” And he wasn’t wrong, you did love it. He gripped your throat, a smirk planted on his features as he watched you helpless and at his mercy. Some drool started dripping out of your mouth and you could feel your vision starting to haze around the edges. Megumi fucked into you harder, pulling you closer to his body. Naoya let his grip loosen a bit around your throat, enough to allow some air to fill your lungs again.

“I’m close, baby. I’m gonna fill you up okay? Be a good girl and take all of it for me.” Megumi purrs beside you. Naoya takes this moment to strengthen the grip around your throat, cutting off your air. You feel Megumi’s speed pick up, him desperately chasing his orgasm. You can hear his staggered whimpers as he empties his load into your cunt, filling your already full womb even more. Naoya releases his hand from your throat, making you choke and gasp for air. He’s looking down at you with sadistic satisfaction as you struggle to catch your breath.

Megumi pulls out and lets go of your waist, and you plop down onto the bed absolutely fucked out. Naoya is quick to get off the bed and start dressing. He finishes so quickly it’s as if he was speedrunning it (he has done this many, many, MANY times before). He gives you a quick peck on the lips and gently rubs your cheek before starting to walk towards the door. “See you soon, slut,” he says as he walks out, closing the door behind him this time. Megumi returns with a clean towel, gently cleaning you up as you just lay their like a limp fish.

“You did so well for me. Thank you,” he says as he kisses your cheeks and then your lips before pulling away and picking up some clothes for you. He tosses you a simple outfit to wear and begins dressing himself as well. “Ready for dinner? You’re gonna meet the rest of my family now.” You nod your head yes, anticipating who else you’re going to meet.

‹𝟹 notes: this was originally suppsed to be a oneshot, but i felt like it was getting too long. i have plans for all of them and wasn't going to be able to execute it in just a oneshot. let me know what y'all think!

feedback is always appreciated!! thank you all!!!

ch 2 (soon)

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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theharddeck · 4 months

Text

start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!)

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep.

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport.

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed.

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts.

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun.

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give.

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on.

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died.

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least.

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again.

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations).

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower.

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped.

You waited.

He didn’t move.

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely.

“Are you cold?”

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake.

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered.

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault.

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something.

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life.

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched.

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt.

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you.

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same.

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends.

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction.

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly.

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer.

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them.

“Why?” you asked.

Again, that quiet chuckle.

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly.

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow.

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man.

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation.

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm.

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there.

In bed.

With you.

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces.

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle.

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said.

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again.

It distracted you for a moment.

Just a moment.

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering.

You tried to be still, you did.

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised.

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat.

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing.

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep.

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed.

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you.

“Can I…?” he trailed off.

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth.

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow.

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity.

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond.

Jake hummed.

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep.

You startled awake to the sound of guns.

Not guns, fireworks.

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten?

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly.

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking.

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any.

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said.

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid.

You took a long breath, starting to explain.

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination.

Just as quickly, he pulled back.

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was.

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that.

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again.

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly.

Of course he was a good kisser.

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you.

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline.

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold.

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed.

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you.

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting.

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck.

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced,

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face.

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger.

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin.

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted.

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing.

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs.

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him.

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg.

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that.

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again.

It shouldn’t be this hot.

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise.

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you.

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching.

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze.

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge.

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter.

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs.

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well.

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact.

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness.

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something.

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this.

“Right,” you said weakly.

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.

He kissed your thigh.

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught.

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming.

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch.

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different.

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless.

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you.

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned.

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice.

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion.

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set.

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair.

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again.

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you.

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more.

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers.

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded.

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow.

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening.

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words.

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body.

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again.

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter.

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming.

You weren’t cold anymore.

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter.

God damn, he was so hot.

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be.

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough.

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again.

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick.

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed.

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself.

He was so strong.

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you.

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct.

Fuck, he felt big.

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head.

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it.

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed.

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers.

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent.

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his.

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out.

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back.

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours.

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance.

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth.

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him.

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him.

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair.

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication.

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too.

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege.

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly.

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too.

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down.

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that.

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs.

You’d had two orgasms.

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough.

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt.

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him.

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it.

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward.

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do.

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you.

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed.

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe.

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit.

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you.

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you.

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound.

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal.

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it.

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it.

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding.

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting.

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come.

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you.

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go.

You were just as boneless.

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin smut #misskielwrites

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etfrin · 4 months

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❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter eight | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coryo wakes up in the hospital and finds you... oh! you guys share a bed btw <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 hope y'all like this!!

beta read by the amazing spectacular @nowitsmissing

series masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus Snow could hear a certain buzz as he regained consciousness. He soon realized it was the noise of the machine attached to him. The groan he lets out is louder than he thought as he opens his eyes and begins to sit up.

He blinks, the dim light of the hospital filling his eyes up and it hurts. He looked to his left and saw the empty beds beside him, a few nurses fluttering around, not paying any attention to anything except their remaining work.

He looks to his right, and he won't ever admit the fact that his eyes watered. A few teardrops even rolled down on his cheeks without his consent. You were there, safe and present. Curled up in a chair, sleeping. He hissed softly as he wiped the moisture away from his face. He ignored the sting he felt whenever he moved. The wound in his back would surely scar.

At least it wasn't his face.

He stands up on his feet, his arm holding the IV pole for support. He wondered briefly if he should wake you up but decided against it. It certainly wasn't because you looked so pretty right now, he just wanted you well rested. That's it (not).

But his attention is stolen by his tribute on the TV. Lucy Gray Baird live on the screens of every TV in Panem. Even the nurses had stopped working to look at her. She held a guitar. Coriolanus was glad that Sejanus Plinth did one thing right in his life.

“Good evening. Capitol. Districts,” she said. Her fingertips were on the strings of the lovely guitar. “I wrote this song for a boy back in twelve. I hope he hears it.”

Then she begins to strum out a tune and a sweet melody begins to play with heartbreaking lyrics.

“When I was a babe, I fell in the holler

When I was a girl, I fell into your arms

We fell on hard times, and we lost our bright Colors

You went zu the dogs, and I lived by my charms

I danced for my dinner, spread kisses like honey

You stole and you gambled, and I said you should

We sang for our soppers, we drunk up our money

And one day you left, saying I was no good…"

He grinned, Lucy Gray certainly painted a picture of a heartbroken girl nicely. It would certainly win the hearts of the Capitol if the sobbing of the nurses he could hear was any sign. Plus, he was sure Sejanus Plinth would be blinded by jealousy. The thought made Coriolanus feel so much better.

Then his attention turns to you, your voice much sweeter despite being raspy, “It was a rebel bombing they said.” You continue, “They wanted to destroy the symbols of the Games. Marcus, Sejanus Plinths’ tribute ran away. And several died. We were lucky.”

You stand up and stretch your arms. And he hates himself for his eyes lowered to see the flash of skin you showed when your shirt rose. He swallowed and pretended that his increased heartbeat wasn't because of you.

You walk up to him.

“You were lucky,” you said, your hand caging his with a hold he cherished. You rest your head on his shoulder and both of you watch the song end together, and Lucy walks off stage.

You begin to explain again, “Tigris had to leave for work. Sejanus left to give Lucy Gray the guitar. They both were present and worried.”

Your head turns to his side, and you whisper, “You're not allowed to get hurt again.”

“I don't think I have that in control-” Coriolanus begins to say, his voice defensive. He could see the tiredness in your eyes. He could see you overwhelmed by what happened. He didn't need to ask ‘Real or not?’. He knew.

You squeezed his hand so hard that he saw white in his vision, a surprised groan leaving his lips. “You're not allowed to get hurt,” you emphasized. Your eyes narrowed in a glare, you looked a bit adorable with how worn out you were and Coriolanus wanted to smile at you. He decided against it when the hold got tighter and he was pretty sure his hand wasn't getting any blood flow.

“Fine,” he agreed, “I won't get hurt again.”

He knew it wasn't in his control. But for you, he would try. There was no way to rationalize why so he put the promise he just made to you to the back of his mind.

Your hand loses the death grip and you gently make him sit down on the bed again. “Ma I mean Sejanus’ mom sent some food for us. She's sad that she couldn't visit,” you said.

“Ma?” He questioned.

“She told me to call her that. I had plenty of dinners at Sejanus place.” You answered.

“Plenty, huh?” He muttered it was so obviously jealous that you raised an eyebrow at him. You dig out a container from a bag and place it on your lap. In your hand, you had utensils for one person.

“Feel free to invite me to yours, Snow.”

But he couldn't, and that increased his jealousy even more. Sejanus could feed you steaks, and sweets and what could Coriolanus feed you? Expired milk and cabbage soup. He didn't say anything further, letting the hurt fester in his heart.

He decided to give you something else instead.

“Coryo…” he whispered, his eyes vulnerable, “Call me Coryo from now on.” Coryo was a nickname for his friends and family. Something intimate to him, something he owns to himself. And he was giving it to you and hoped that you accepted it.

“Coryo,” you tried out, and it sounded perfect from your lips. It sounded so much like the fate he avoids, that he looks away. He blames his blurry eyes on tiredness.

“Now eat,” you said, taking his attention with the spoonful of rice you held in front of him.

“I can feed myself,” he said. He wasn't that hurt. He could move his limbs fine. He can feed himself. He is not a child. You don't have to treat him as one.

“Don't care, Coryo. It's for me rather than for you,” you stated, “Please, Coryo.”

He doesn't argue. He doesn't know what to refute when your eyes turn pleading. And he knew that you were making the impression so he would give in. And so he did. Who was he to reject you after all?

He lets you feed him the rice and chicken gravy Sejanus's mom cooked deliciously. It was hundredfolds better than anything Coriolanus could compare to. He will remember to pass his thanks to Sejanus.

After the box is devoid of any food, it's returned to its place in the bag. And you curled up in the uncomfortable seat again. Coriolanus didn't like it very much, it was obvious it wasn't the most luxurious place to sleep in. Surely, your back and neck will hurt when you wake up tomorrow.

He moves himself until there's space in his small, hospital bed. He pats the space. “Come here,” he said. Before you could protest, he adds, “It's for me rather than for you.”

You don't argue with him, instead you slip him beside him. Your body against his in the small bed. He lets out a shuddering breath that you don't notice. His arm is under your head, being used as a pillow. In a sense, you were cuddling with how quickly your legs had tangled with his and your arm was over his torso. He felt caged, and he never knew being caged could feel good not suffocating. It could feel safe.

You made him feel safe.

NEXT PART

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vcill · 1 year

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✧🩷 Good Girl 🩷✧

200 follower special <3 I love y'all sm ♡

Diavolo →

Adjusting to RAD is never easy, with so many exams, having to deal with the demon brothers, baby knows how you feel and knows how stressed and pent you are.

Tell him all about how Mammon and Levi almost burnt down the science lab, and how he would've been able to put it out by how much he's making you squirt.

Angry that Satan got a higher score than you on a test? Take your anger out on him. Squeeze your thighs on his head, suffocate him and make sure he ain't breathing.

Uh oh! What's that tone you used towards the future king? That's not good at all. Don't worry, he'll fuck the sense back into you. A nice apology while fucking you still sounds perfect.

Him fucking and stuffing you so full that you forgot why you even had an attitude to begin with. Apologies being nothing but moan and whimpers while begging him to ruin you. ♡

Him telling you that you did such a good job today, such a good girl for him. Taking him all and not complaining. Draining him dry and making you soaked and full is the best thing a good girl could ever receive .

Barbatos →

He only ever wants the best for you, so failing a test or being late to class isn't gonna make him mad at you.

Good girls know how to study, keep track of their test, when to fall asleep at a good time and not miss school. So really, you've been really bad. But owning up to your mistakes makes it almost better.

Studying for a math test should be easy as you count how many times you've both came. No, it wasn't 5, it was 8. Looks like you guys have to start over. Nope, him eating you out and fucking you is two different things! You don't add those together.

Unless you wanna be there all night, you better start learning.

Falling asleep and missing class? Mm mm. Go ahead and work yourself on his cock while he sits there an does nothing, you need to build your stamina after all. Surprise fuck when you're asleep? Need to always be aware of your surroundings, no excuse for letting your guard down.

Soon enough, you'll learn. You remember how many orgasms you've had, know how to keep working his cock without getting tired, and to properly prep yourself when it's time to get fucked by his cock at night.

Like a good girl, you learn how to do what you're told and be the perfect little fucktoy for the perfect butler.

Solomon →

Being his sweet little apprentice, you'll gladly help in anything he might need. For example, he recently learned a new spell and needed a T̶e̶s̶t̶ s̶u̶b̶j̶e̶c̶t̶ volunteer. Of course, you willing took the part, not even asking what the spell is.

Soon enough, you learn. You feel hot, moist, and slightly dizzy. But most of all, you want dick. Sorcerer dick matter of fact. Looks like the spell works on anyone in the room, cause all Solomon wanted was that phat pussy.

Being railed on one of the desk in the room wasn't on your list today, but you're not complaining. Solomon using all his force and knocking the air out of you as he hits the spot you know and love. Watching your body jiggles from his thrust, drool drip for your cunt and mouth.

Oh this spell is really good. So good, maybe he should cast another, if it's okay with you of course. Your moaning is more then enough consent to proceed, as soon as he casted this one, you both felt so sensitive. His hand on your thighs making your pussy drip even more. Your nails scratching his back made him want to burst.

Ok ok, one more. Be a good girl and let him do his thing, alright? You can take some more. The aching in your legs seem to disappear as your mind goes blank, only thing you can think about is Solomon Solomon Solomon. All you want is him to fill you up and keep you feel. Keep milking him, make sure he can never fill back up again.

You both are so overstimulated but don't give a fuck, maybe this time you also cast a spell which makes both of you whine like crazy. Look at you learning to cast spells just like him, such a good girl you are.

Simeon →

Simeon thinks you're always so good to him. Doing everything as you should, eating your breakfast, brushing your teeth, eating a good meal. What more can he ask?

Good girl deserve the best of course, go ahead and relax as he sucks that tasty pussy of yours. Continue doing your home work while he works his fingers inside of you. Don't worry about the mess your making, he'll clean it right up as long as you keep squirting for him.

How you take care of him when he's stressed, taking his cock whole while drool drips from your mouth. The little tears in your eyes look so beautiful as he makes you choke on it. Such a good girl taking him all! Want him to fuck you now? I bet you do! ♡

He only wants to do what you want him to do. You want him to move? How hard? Where do you want him to hit it? There? That feels good? I'm sure it does.

But he can't spoil you too much. You only get what you earned. You really think you're so slick adding on to the things you did today. You answered a question correctly in class, so you deserve to be fucked one more time. Better hope he doesn't figure out you lied about a few things. Good girls don't lie, rightttt?

When you finish, he lays beside you, telling you how pretty his baby girl is. Asking you if you can do it again tomorrow and how you better promise that you will. His good girl always keeps her promises!

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haikyubts · 2 years

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Lee Junho being okay with not being able to hold Youngwoo's hand the moment she says it's very uncomfortable for her. It's Youngwoo who suggests holding hands, or trying to, at least, even if for those 57 seconds. And Junho's endearing, sweet sweet smile when she says that agrees to it.

Junho saying it's okay when she barely pulls a thirty second hand-holding and saying it's okay, we can hold hands next time.

Lee my-feelings-aren't-temporary Junho who is distressed at finding out the story about the Stonewall path and immediately suggests stopping to walk and going somewhere else because my man's brain stops working anytime someone suggests pulling him and Youngwoo apart 😭😭😭

Lee Junho noticing that Youngwoo is being very uncomfortable in the courtroom and noticing the way she keeps fiddling with her hands.

Lee Junho who knows he still likes (loves) Youngwoo but doesn't laugh at Youngwoo's innocent question of "Do you still like me?" And instead answers with a "Yes, I do", albeit he cannot resist teasing her by telling her she hurt his feelings and making sure she knows he's teasing.

Lee Junho who perhaps finds it a little funny that Youngwoo has a folder of date ideas but being delighted in the fact that the list is long 😭😭😭

Lee Junho who asks if taking her home is written in the file or not, and suggests with starting something as simple as that to make her comfortable and to have long talks and get to know her better.

LEE JUNHO WHO TELLS HIS FRIENDS YOUNGWOO AND HIM ARE ON A DATE AND THAT SHE'S A LAWYER!!! A PROUD BF!!!

LEE JUNHO, WHO, DESPITE BEING TIPSY/DRUNK, IS FUCKING ENRAGED TO FIND OUT PEOPLE THINK IT'S SYMPATHY THAT HE HAS FOR YOUNGWOO AND NOT LOVE. NICE AND KIND LEE JUNHO WHO FUCKING LOSES IT ENOUGH TO THROW HANDS WHILE BEING PLASTERED BECAUSE HE HASN'T ONCE LOOKED AT HER IN SYMPATHY BUT AS A COMPLETE WOMAN HE TRULY LOVES.

Lee Junho who understands why Youngwoo took the case and doesn't put her feelings down. Who listens when Youngwoo says "when you have a disability, I think merely liking someone is not enough. because even if I say it's love, if other people say it's not, then it's not."

Lee Junho responds with a sincere "Even if other people say it's not, if you say it's love, it's love."

LEE JUNHO WHO DOESN'T MISS A BEAT IN RESPONDING WITH "YES." WHEN YOUNGWOO SAYS "LOVING ME IS HARD. BUT ARE YOU STILL GOING TO?"

Lee Junho who soooooo wants to kiss her and steps in closer when the lights go off but comes to his senses and takes a step back when the lights are on, because he knows Youngwoo might be uncomfortable and might not want to be touched/kissed.

LEE JUNHO WHO WAITS UNTIL YOUNGOO PUTS HER HANDS ON HIS SHIRT AND LOOKS HIM IN THE EYE AND GIVES HER CONSENT AND KISSING HER ONLY THEN.

Lee Junho who doesn't laugh at Youngwoo's inexperience about love and kissing and instead tells her tips on how to kiss better so that she's comfortable in doing so.

Just...just Lee Junho y'all.

Just Lee Junho not being a green flag but an entire fucking forest. Lee Junho, a man written by a woman.

An ordinary, middle-class guy with an ordinary job who is understanding, sincere, loving and committed to his woman. The man of every woman's dream.

This is the reason why everyone is nuts for him.

Just Lee Junho y'all.

#kdrama #extraordinary attorney woo #kang tae oh #kdramas #park eun bin #이상한 변호사 우영우 #attorney wooyoung woo #netflix kdrama #netflix #우영우

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travelingthief · 10 months

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Lady Aphrodite Devotional Post

Offerings

Doves/Swans/Sparrows

Roses

Chocolate

Myrrh

Apples/golden apples

Seashells

Mermaids

Pearls

Jewelry

Gold/Silver/Diamond

Cherries

Dolphins

Perfumes

Cologne

Makeup

Combs

Mirrors

Affirmations/Affirmation Cards

Beach Sand

Sea imagery

Water

Love poems

Oyster shells

Pink Salt

Driftwood

Sea glass

Rose quartz

Amenome/Roses/Carnations

Other flowers

Valentine's Day gifts

Teddy bears

Rose water

Wine

Eros/Cupid imagery

Cakes

(Dress up) Dolls

Chapstick/lipstick

Fishnets

Honey cakes

Undergarments

Hearts

Handheld fans

Pictures of loved ones

Devotional Acts

Dress up and selfies

Keep menstrual products on you, even if you don't bleed

Advocate for pro-choice

Give/accept compliments

Advocate for SA victims

Implement a self-care routine

Go on a date

Take yourself on a date

Do something nice for your partner

Manicure/pedicure

Flirt

Affirmations in the mirror

Drink wine

Advocate for proper sex ed. (Including queer sex ed)

Love yourself/Become more confident

Experiment with your style

Mirror scrying

Listen to sleep affirmations

Love letter to self/her/partner

Take a bath/shower

Go to the ocean/water

This part is about sexual stuff so fair warning

Offerings

Condoms/lube

Lingerie

Undergarments

Sex toys

NSFW magazines/books/movie

Devotional Acts

Finally give into that one kink. You know the one.

Masturbation

Practice safe sex

Educate yourself on the porn industry

Support sex workers (tip them y'all)

Have sex

Get educated on consent/safe sex

Take nude/lewds

#paganism #greek gods #helpol #aphrodite #aphrodite worship #aphrodite devotion #love aphrodite #witchblr #paganblr

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veeveex3 · 2 years

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Kissing the Housewardens in Spin the Bottle Headcannons

I'm upset again, so more silly goofy headcannons (these were made to be pretty jokey but I don't mind making more serious romantic headcannons for the housewardens if people want it) (also, these are headcannons given that you and the character both like each other and are fine with kissing each other, for obvious reasons)

Riddle Rosehearts:

I don't know how you got him to play this tbh

He was probably forced to play by Cater cause there's no way in HELL he's gonna lose his first kiss to a silly little game

And then he loses his first kiss to a silly little game

He's lucky you were the one to spin the bottle because if it was anyone else, he would've broken the rules and ran right out the door

He probably just stares at you as you come closer to him

Tries to act calm and normal but fails I'm sorry-

If you give him a kiss on the cheek, he'll be fine, he'll be normal

But if you kiss him on the lips, he'll turn into tomato Riddle real quick

He'd be a little bitter than his first kiss wasn't more special, but is still happy you kissed him

Leona Kingscholar:

Gives one of the more normal responses out of the group

Probably kissed someone before and didn't think too much of it, so he's perfectly fine with this

When you spin the bottle and it lands on him, he gives a sort of smug look to hide the fact that he's happy the bottle didn't land on someone else

If you give him a kiss on the cheek, he'll make fun of you for how shy you must've been to not give him a real kiss

If you give him a kiss on the lips, he'll make fun of you for how desperate you must've been to kiss him

You don't win either way- unless you wanna kiss him cuz yeah, you won in that department

Would put his hand on his tail so that people don't see how much it's swinging back and forth

You think his tail gets tired? Is it like a leg or something?

Azul Ashengrotto:

Has more composure than Riddle but not by much

Also didn't do this of his own free well

Jade and Floyd probably pressured him into doing it and dipped lol

Again, another one who hasn't had his first kiss yet is more ok with this than Riddle

If you kiss him on the cheek, he'll talk about how not nervous he was, even though that's a complete lie

If you kiss him on the lips though, he'd start squirming like a fish out of water

or like, or like an octopus. I'm so clever.

Cries a little, not like a noticeable amount but he cries

Luckily it's not sad tears but more conflicted and embarrassed tears

He'd grab Floyd's confidence after with a contract and ask to do a do over kiss so you don't think he's lame or something

But he is, he is very much lame (affectionate and derogatory)

Kalim Al-Asim:

Out of the all the housewardens, the most likely to have started the game

He thought it would be a nice bonding moment to kiss your homies or something I dunno man he's trying his best

Would be pretty happy to have the bottle land on him

Another one who hasn't had his first kiss yet, but it's probably cause he was sheltered from romantic relationships, like Riddle

However he's fine with giving it up now, and even more fine with kissing you in particular

Would make the first move and not the other way around

He'd ask you first if you'd like to kiss on the lips or not (consent is cool guys!)

If you say no, he'd respect that and give you a kiss on the cheek, and a complementary hug

If you say yes, he'd get a little embarrassed before giving you a little peck on the lips

I'm sorry guys but once Jamil finds out, y'all are dead-

Vil Schoenheit:

The most chill about this whole situation

He definitely kissed as a part of one of his acting roles so he probably joined the game for funsies

Is a little surprised that the bottle landed on him, but he's fine with it

He likes you so getting a free chance to kiss you is great for him

Would also make the move first like Kalim

He'd also ask for consent because consent is neat!

If you don't wanna kiss him on the lips, he'd make a little comment about it as a joke and give you a smooch on the cheek

If you do wanna kiss him on the lips, he'll give you one of those romantic movie type kisses

Like, lifting you up by your chin to look at him, making eye contact (if you're comfortable with that), and giving you a big kiss on the lips

If you're visibly nervous or embarrassed afterwards, he'd also make a jokey little comment on it too

Idia Shroud:

The least chill about this whole situation

In all honesty, he wouldn't even join the game nor would he go in person

But I don't want this part to be "you kissed his tablet awkwardly and everyone just had to watch you kiss a tablet, including Idia, who's probably getting the weirdest view rn"

So let's just say Ortho begged him to come to whatever party this is at or something and Azul made him play because if he was forced to do it, Idia would be too

Starts panicking once the bottle lands on him

Hasn't had his first kiss yet (obviously) and he doesn't wanna lose it to this silly little normie game

If you kiss him on the cheek, he'll be embarrassed yeah, but he'll also be thankful that his first kiss has been spared

If you kiss him on the lips though, you won't cuz he'll pass out before you get the chance

If he's feeling confident, he'd give you a kiss on the cheek once you two are alone as an apology for being cringe

Malleus Draconia:

The most confused about this whole situation

Not only is he confused at the fact that he was actually invited, but he's also confused on how the game works

If you want to kiss someone, why leave it up to chance, y'know

He gets surprisingly embarrassed once the bottle lands on him

Yeah he's like 100+ years old or whatever, but I still feel like he's the type to save his first kiss for marriage or his first love (aka yuu you)

So he's happy but also thought his first kiss would be, y'know, private

If you kiss him on the cheek, he'd laugh a little and give you a kiss on the cheek back

If you kiss him on the lips, he's gonna go all out, pull ALL the stops

Imagine being the other housewardens just watching as Malleus just straight up makes out with you in front of them

Fucking steals you to go do some more kissing in his room-

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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watermelonlovershigh · 1 year

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Harry's All Natural Sleep Aid 👅🐱 /blurb/ (SMUT)

AN: i know i have like 5 promised things that are suppose to be coming out but i couldn't get this concept off my mind and had to write it out. so i hope you don't mind and enjoy. it feels like forever since i've wrote and it feels good getting back into it.

This story contains: insomnia, female receiving oral sex in a living room

{ dadrry - husbandrry - softrry - current harry era - three kids (unnamed and unaged) }

word count- 1,124

Harry performs his all natural sleep aid to help you get sleepy after a bout of your insomnia.

Around three in the morning you woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. So instead of tossing and turning and potentially waking up your husband Harry, you decided to go down stairs and have yourself a cup of tea while watching old Friends reruns.

Not even twenty minutes of you relaxing on the couch do you hear the heavy pattering of feet coming down the stairs. Instantly you know it's Harry and not one your children because Harry has always had a heavy walk. He makes his way to the couch with a grumpy expression and crossed arms. "Where'd you go?"

Giggling at your man child who can't go thirty minutes without you attached to his hip, especially while sleeping because Harry is a massive cuddler, you reply, "Couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake you."

Now the grumpy expression turns to more of a sympathetic one. Harry knows you have trouble sleeping sometimes and he always feels bad because once he's asleep, he can stay asleep unless one of the following three things happen:

You get out of bed and he no longer has his cuddle partner, he gets a boner that just won't go down, or you or one of his three kids call out for him. Whether that's because one of y'all are sick, scared, or just need him in general.

"M'sorry, love." Harry coos softly, now beside you on the couch, leaning his head on your shoulder. "I could help you get sleepy again if you'd let me." He knows the easiest and most effective way for you to become sleepy. It works every time and it's all natural because he knows how you feel about taking sleep medicines, you dislike them.

Leaning your head into your husbands that's snuggled into your shoulder, you ask, "Oh yeah, how?" Before he responds verbally, Harry slides off the couch and onto the living room floor.

He gets situated on his knees in front of you and replies seriously, "Make you come, with m'mouth."

"Harry," you gasp at his naughty words. It's not that you're not use to him being so direct but it's usually done in the bedroom. Not in the living room where your kids could wake up and come down freely. There's no door with a lock down here. "What about the kids? They could come down here."

"What," Harry bites back, "you know damn well every time I give you an orgasm you get sleepy afterwards. It's just a fact. So pleaseee, can I eat your pussy? I'll be quick and then we can go back to cuddle in bed. And the kids are asleep. I just checked in on them before coming down here. Just gotta stay quiet s'all."

Knowing how right your husband is, you shake your head into a nod, then consenting with a verbal, "Okay, but you better hurry and get me off."

"Yes, ma'am!" Wasting no time, Harry pulls the blanket off your lap and pulls down your pajama shorts and cotton panties. He slides your bum to the edge of the couch cushion and leans forward, placing a delicate kiss directly on your little clit.

Just the soft touch of his lips to your most sensitive area has you nearly jumping out your seated position. "Oh, fuck!" you gasp out. Harry looks up with a pleased grin on his face but knowing that what he's about to do is going to be so much better than a clit kiss.

Leaning in more, Harry takes his tongue and begins to properly eat you out. He flicks his warm tongue up and down, side to side, on your clitoris, stimulating you quite nicely. His large hands are wrapped around your thighs that's laying over his bare shoulders. You have to grab one of the decorative pillows you keep on the sofa to press over your face so your heavy breaths and moans stay at bay.

Harry alternates between licking and sucking on your clit. He even pokes his tongue in your hole just to tease you. When you feel the knot in your stomach began to tighten and your legs begin to shake, you quietly warn out, "Babe, I'm gonna come. Shit, feels so fuckin' good."

He works harder in concentrating on getting you to your end. You glance down and grin through your pleasure at the sight of your husband on his knees, eyes closed shut, in the middle of the living room, eating you out in the middle of the night, with Friends still playing on the large tv in front of you. What more could you ask for.

Right as your orgasm courses through you, you reach down and grab a handful of Harry's messy curls, pushing him impossibly closer to your cunt. His face is dripping in your juices and you're sure you're leaving a wet patch on the couch beneath you. Biting your tongue, you let an internal moan go through you while breathing heavy through your nose.

When Harry can feel you pushing his mouth away due to sensitivity, he slowly backs away from your pussy. You look down again while trying to control your breathing and see just how glossy his lips and chin are. The sight alone nearly makes you want to go for a round two. But all the sudden your eyes get a wave of tiredness in them and you start to feel the effects Harry mentioned earlier.

Speaking in a gentle manner, Harry says, "Okay, time for bed. Hand me a tissue from beside you so I can clean us up. Then I'll carry you to bed, baby. Know your legs probably feel all wobbly, don't they."

Not having the energy to speak, you nod your head and grab the tissue from the tissue box you keep by the couch for him to clean you and his face up with. After wiping his mouth off, he carefully and attentively wipes up the mess between your legs. Then Harry helps pull your underwear and shorts back on you before standing up on cracking knees.

At least the living room is carpeted but still, Harry's joints aren't in the shape they were when he was twenty. Sitting on his knees for more then five minutes make them quite sore. But he choose to ignore the pain because he's just that selfless.

After standing up, Harry switches the tv off and then scoops you up bridal style in his arms to carry you back to bed. But before making it to the staircase, you lean forward with your arms around his neck, puckering your lips asking for a kiss and of course Harry leans in to meet your lips as well. The kiss is soft and gentle and shows just how sleepy you both are now. "Love you." you whisper against his mouth.

Replying back softly, Harry mutters, "I love you too."

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore1 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithharry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @theroosterswife24 // @justlemmeholdyou // @stylesmygucci // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #dadrry #dilfrry #dad!harry #dilf!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fic rec #harry styles fluff #harry x reader #harry styles blurb #blurb

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moondirti · 10 months

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9. INTROSPECTION

CHAPTER NINE OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter eight / chapter ten ⇀

summary: both you and miguel are given some food for thought following your tryst at the gym

mature | 5.4k words warnings: enemies to lovers, angst, talks of consent, miguel o'hara is kind of nice (?), hobie is a real one as per usual, self-hatred, violent imagery, no use of y/n notes: sorry for the long wait, have a whole scene in miguel's pov as an apology. these chapters are getting longer as our feelings get more complicated (and more dialogue heavy) so bear with me and pls let me know what y'all think!

It feels like a dream.

As tricky as a handful of sand, scooped up into your fist. For as much as you tighten your clutch around it, it evades you, trickling out from between the imperfect gaps of your fingers. You scramble to catch it, to cross your legs so it piles onto your lap, but you’re not as quick or sticky as it requires you to be. It joins the shore, and you’re left piecing it together, one grain at a time.

Your foolishness. His reciprocation. The sheer debauchery of it all.

Time, too, works against you. It gorges on the bank, like a gluttonous ocean. Every passing hour, the reality of what happened wears thinner and thinner. The details are lost amidst the foam.

It feels like a dream, and you can’t rationalise it for all you try.

You’ve had your fair share of regretful hookups; tough mornings after parties, waking up by a person you hardly remember chatting up, your phone clogged with messages from the date you abandoned. The memories are piled up somewhere, tamping the shame that occasionally spiles at their mention. When ratioed against your life as of late, however, they surmount to nothing. Small blips in judgement made by the woman you no longer are.

What happened with Miguel was no blip.

You’re ruined. The one avenue towards redemption now soiled with spit.

Because sure, it was entirely consensual. You can’t deny the heat that had transpired between you, disgorging the pent up aggression into something unanticipated. He’d been on top, straddling your chest, pinching the breath from collapsing lungs – and maybe the hypoxia had contributed to your delirium, but you’d taken him in just the same. With a fervour; filthily, drunk off the scent seemingly woven into his flesh. You stopped him from moving away, your hand caressing a thick thigh. You directed him into an ever-pliant mouth.

(What’s worse, you’re still halfway there; stuck between your lust and rationale.

Left high and dry, as one might say.)

Regardless, it doesn’t change what you’ve done, nor the consequences it’ll inevitably source. That’s how it is with him – difficult, a meandering path away from the most immediate answer, leading into a compromise that only ever complicates things. That’s how you imagine it going, anyway, towards either of two conclusions:

This stops. Everything – not just the boundary broaching, but your training too. Chances are he rues his misdemeanour far more than you do, prized discipline shattered across a gym floor. And, if it means as much to him as you guess it does, then he’ll take every measure to ensure your temptation is as far away as possible. You’ll be pulled by the scruff – a naughty kitten caught knocking cups off a table – and sent back home by dawn.

Or–

You suppress the shiver that slithers up your spine.

He glazes over it, keeps you around. You’ll bump into him eventually – when your guard lowers enough for his presence to creep up on you – and he’ll call you out for lacking commitment. The lecture already congeals in your imagination, taking on the same stern tone he reserves for your worst, unaffected by your mutual transgression. It would imply he does this often, or is otherwise desensitised to your salacity – which registers as plausible, if only for the ways he’s ignored it in the past.

In any case, you can’t be normal about it.

Dawn’s pink fingers press you flush against your mattress, cocooned in sheets that have adapted to your warmth overnight. You stretch, working the muscles that have compressed in your sleep, before quickly settling back in again, your face buried in a feather soft pillow. You feel like a cat, lounging in a patch of latticed sunlight, drunk off pure sloth. The indulgence is good for once. Your overthinking tends to be loud, an overstimulating confluence of doubt that leaves you reeling, like you’ve been dipped in static. Here, cozied up somewhere comfortable, it slows to a healthier pace. Contemplative almost, floating beside the dust motes bobbing mid-air.

He’d reciprocated.

You won’t forget it. Won’t let yourself heal the bruises on the roof of your mouth, or the soreness of your tonsils. He’d cradled your jaw and sought release down your throat, in spite of all the mess staining your relationship’s history. The Miguel who’d tracked you to that quarry wouldn’t have succumbed, nor would he have done so in that storelot, patting you down for your day pass. In much the same fashion that he wouldn’t have remedied his use of that cursed name – Wraith – before you’d told him how much it irked you.

You knew that something shifted following your confession, cramped between bone-dry rubble. You’d flayed yourself out, a frog killed for dissection, and let him examine the innermost, vilest parts of you. You thought it might’ve been resignation – that tired look in his eyes – the fallout in realising you were beyond reason. But then he’d granted you room and board, this sheltered haven much more favourable than the intermittent state of an apocalyptic world. You’re fed, and clothed, and are physically separated from the criminal anomalies in laser cells. He met you in that gym, ready to push you to the potential he must’ve spotted in order for all the above to be viable.

You hesitate to say it, but perhaps this is the purgatory you’ve been looking for.

(Had you failed your first test, by tempting an otherwise moral man to spill himself into you?

Or was it the only one; like Eve in Eden, grazing her teeth along the skin of a damned apple?

You don’t want to fall.)

Your belly rumbles with the intensity of coins rolling down a cobblestone path. It lurches and chatters and draws awareness to the fact that you haven’t eaten in a while, running purely off your will to avoid any human interaction. You’d taken a shower last night after spending the whole day marked with dry cum, heaving within closed quarters in panic. It’s ebbed to a distant hum now, not as prevalent in the backwash of prolonged rest and a cleanse. Your skin feels soft, scrubbed raw with generic-scented soap, and you know that some filling food will bolster you back onto your feet again.

Only then will you think about where to go from here. Only then will you be able to, sated with everything you can lose if you don’t traverse carefully.

The henley you slip on is cool against your sleep-soaked flesh, wrinkled in places but snug enough for you not to mind. Already, by wearing civilian clothes, you stand out – a speck of normality amidst the bustling crowd of spider-heroes in spandex. Add it to your reputation for being the bane of Miguel O’Hara’s existence, and you already have a picture not worth changing anytime soon.

Your joggers follow soon after, loose and sitting low on your hips. You remind yourself to thank Hobie, should you cross paths with him.

Spider Headquarters must have been built to confound you – or any outsider, for that matter.

Yesterday, you’d carefully mapped your way to the cafeteria, taking note of every sudden turn and the shifting distinctions between up and down. It’d been rudimentary enough, an eventuality if you kept one hand glued to a wall and kept walking straight. But today, the layout has capsized into another labyrinthe entirely. You duck around corners, keeping note of the inverted pathways bridging over your head, only to end up exactly where you started.

Your stomach continues to clench furiously, revolting at your inattention. Perhaps it would be easier if you attempt one of the alternate routes – the upside down lanes designed for spider-people who can defy gravity – but you aren’t exactly assured in your abilities to stick to upended surfaces. Which you are capable of, just as much as the next, but the blood rush and internal effects are hardly negligible. Your last bid had found you dizzy with chronic vertigo, swallowing the sick threatening to expel from your gut.

Of course, if you could control your more unique powers, then none of this would be necessary. You’d walk through walls until happening across your destination, like a spectre haunting the wings of a manor refurbished to a point it is not used to.

Biting your cheek, you turn into an entryway leading to a larger common area. A few strangers hang around, donning masks with upturned eyes and absent mouths. You can’t tell whether they notice your ingress; whether the searing holes along your back are their stares or your own, phantom construction of it. You’ve never been anxious around unfamiliar crowds, but since coming here, your nerves constantly crackle like they do at the end of a bad joke. You feel skinned, exposed to the elements and whatever judgements these heroes might have of you.

(You wonder whether they can see how rotten you are. Are there senses honed to detect criminals, carnage-destined girls who ruin everything in their wake?

You’re afraid that, if they do, it’ll confirm all the worst things you feel about yourself.)

Steering out of the room, you step into the monumental embrace of the lobby. It’s busier here – you seek both reassurance and fault in that. You’re less likely to be noticed. If you are, though, it would mean hundreds of eyes on you. You hug your torso and walk faster, faced directly to where you believe the cafeteria is.

You wish you had a suit of your own; a mask to hide you from the outside world. To occupy yourself from the anxiety torrenting through you, you imagine what it would look like. Surely, you’d take inspiration from the thousands of pre-existing ones. An insignia on the chest, between the clefts of your breasts. Skin-tight, with dual colours in bold shapes. You ponder on whether the scalp should be left open, to allow space for your hair, or if you favour a more streamlined look.

And the eyes. You filter through the trends you’ve seen thus far. Those cat-like, upturned pits. Jess Drew and her goggles, though those remind you too much of your previous ones. Miguel’s mirrored contours – you’ve always thought his could be likened to a skull’s silhouette, so you vow off the pattern entirely.

Isn’t it tradition, though, to pull inspiration from your mentor’s design? You assume so, but the notion sits on your brain, unable to dissolve into anything real. After everything that’s happened, besides the shitshow at the gym, he doesn’t feel like a mentor at all. He isn’t the type to coax you on as you carefully tread up a wall, combatting the innate fear keeping from doing so, or to give you the secret recipe for web-fluid. He didn’t even seem occupied in helping you control your power – in fact, it would probably be in his best interests if you kept on living without them.

But when you’d asked to be taught in the ways of a hero, you’d been under the impression that his tutelage would pertain to all of those things. You’d never been given the chance to learn them for yourself – your home-world a wasteland with limited resources – but Spider-HQ fosters the perfect place for it. Its leader, on the other hand, seems to be more focused on the philosophical, which you’ve no room for. You already grapple too much with your existence as it is.

By the time you reach the cafeteria, you’ve worked yourself into another frenzy. It doesn’t help that, when you order your burger, it comes out blue and adorned with Spiderman 2099 embellishments.

Jesus Christ.

“Bit egomaniacal, innit?” A deep voice sounds from your right. You nearly jolt out of your skin, clutching the edge of the bar to keep you from falling off your raised chair.

“Hobie,” You squeak, blinking rapidly to dispel the shock from your expression. He gives you a lopsided smile, wiggling his fingers to signal he means no harm.

“He insists it wasn’t his idea, but I know the truth.” His wicks bounce to obscure his forehead as he nods to the plate. You have to bite your knuckle to hide your pleased smile, delighted at having someone who shares your exasperation. The air balances on the imagery of Miguel going through themed food proposals, amusement imbued while the punk finds a seat next to you. “I heard what happened.” He adds, stretching a long leg to touch the floor, his guitar placed on the table. “With the deal ‘n’ that.”

It doesn’t feel as serious as it ought to be. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve been pushed back into your troubled stupor. Hobie brings a levity to it though, his broaching of the topic bordering on casual, as if anomalies being allowed to stay by the boss that hates them is nothing remarkable.

“Is it common knowledge?” You ask.

“Nah.” He grabs a fry. You push the plate towards him. “‘Course that’s just how he wants it.”

“Miguel?” The prod is unnecessary. You can imagine a few reasons as to why he’d require your situation to be kept confidential. None of them appear to be that big of a deal, not with the man you know, but Hobie’s suggestion points to something larger. He doesn’t address it any further, however. You appreciate it, the trust – he’s given you the idea to consider and doesn’t shove it down your throat. It’s a novelty, a bout of crisp air after being compressed in a claustrophobic blind spot for months.

“Why stick around? You don’t need all this.” He capers on to his next concern. You mark it amongst the others to return to later.

“I’m starting to think that maybe I do.” You reply, candidly. The truth floods from you before you can do anything to stop it, consequence to the quickly alleviating weight on your chest. You guess that it’s the way he listens and inputs his own opinion. It isn’t in patronising riddles, the manner in which everyone else addresses you lately. He lays it down, clear as sea water, to help you find your own reflection on it all. “I don’t know the first thing about being a hero.”

“Hero, eh? Self-mythologizing term, if you ask me. Case in point,” He points to the burger. A laugh bubbles up your chest. “Everyone here, they’ve lost the plot. Whole point of being a spider-person is your independence.”

(Look where that’s gotten you.)

“That hasn’t done very well for me in the past.” You tell him, because despite the perspicuous advice, you don’t have the advantage of hope on your side. You can’t leg it and define your own path like he might do – God knows you’ve tried. You’re condemned to this game, this realm of waiting on salvation.

(You can’t help but imagine it, though.

Incredulity will accompany you in everything you do. The last time you put your faith in purgatory, it didn’t end so well.)

“Hey. Don’t let me tell you what to do.” Hobie relents. He eyes you like he can plainly read your demurral, tattooed across your cheek. And, when his voice lowers to a whisper, your appetite broils into an anticipatory angst. “But don’t let him do, either.”

The warning seeps into you, nesting a home within your marrow.

He finds you on a rooftop, hugging your knees to your chest.

The night had come quicker than the last, like a knife lowering over Nueva York’s pale throat. It’s in preparation for the incoming winter, he knows, the sky bruising to the colour of captured blood, skipping over the blooming orange of a sunset entirely. Regardless, Miguel hardly had time to complete his afternoon patrol when the cloudless dark distended over him, plunging the city into its favoured state for illicit activities. He’d only come back to grab a quick meal before venturing out again – the work of a spider-man, never done.

But he spots you on his way to his penthouse room, and the blur of flaming adrenaline that sears his lungs is enough to stop him dead in his tracks.

It’s unjustified, really. Even at first glance, you look thoroughly innocent. You’re slouched in a relaxed – almost foetal-like – position, definitely not one that alludes to your potential self-harm. Nor are you dressed for escape, encompassed in a striped sweater with way too many makeshift mends to offer any real warmth. Your chin is tipped towards the stars, or the train that leads up to them, and he’s got a whole host of spiders on call should you try anything he can’t predict from sight alone.

He has no reason to suspect you of anything at all. No reason to pause on it.

Though his instincts blear with panic, ribs compressing to crowd his organs until they scream for respite. It echoes a defunct alarm, from back when spotting you meant catching you and his hatred made all the sense in the world. He’s still so fine tuned for that reality, adapted to the cat and mouse chase of the past year, that its alteration alone is enough to throw him off course. His steps stutter on the ledge of a nearby balcony, neon web dissolving as he retracts it from the wall.

Part of it too is the memory your frame evokes. It blinks into his mind’s eye so rapidly that it might as well be playing out right in front of him, a lewd illustration of what happened on that gym floor. Your face, framed by his thighs, doing your best to take him in for all his brute thrusts. He swallows the sharp guilt that knots his throat. No lust sparks at the recollection.

The past week he’s forced himself to revisit a more consistent routine, from back before you portalled your way onto his table. Send at least four anomalies home, then go on morning, afternoon, and night patrols, all the while staying on call. On the occasion that he is asked to assist in apprehending another threat to the multiverse, then he will do so with little effort. Those missions don’t last as long as yours had, and they don’t do much to disrupt his day. It’s painless, uninvolved.

He needs something difficult, though. A focus that will grind on his nerves, macerating them like pestle on mortar, reducing it to a bitter puree that masks the taste of penitence. He’s alway been better off challenged; the hero's life had found him and reshaped a purpose from frayed bits of arrogance. Then, it was the threat of multiversal collapse, solely levered to his shoulders. He sought for peace in Gabriella, with the life that wasn’t his, but even that had dissolved to make everything all the more punishing. He thinks he’s destined for it now, for a labour that adds to the calluses on his palm. Or – it is perhaps the only thing he deserves, an end for all the misdeeds on his ledger.

He tallies the tryst at the gym alongside them. It’s been six days since that ended so abruptly, and while the memory smoulders like a scabbing brand, his cynicism can’t heal. He knows he won’t stop doubting what happened – how recklessly he’d taken advantage of you – until he settles it verbally.

That’s grounds for what happens next, then. To revive something difficult. To settle it verbally.

He swings to the rooftop you’re slotted on. Although his landing is light, you sense his arrival, jaw tipping towards his presence but doing nothing to look directly at him. He takes it as consolation that you don’t immediately turn away.

Miguel realises how rare it is a sight, at least to him. In every encounter prior to this, you’ve been running or hiding. Ducking, evading. Fighting with your teeth bared like a cornered viper. You’ve been bloodied or bruised, drained as a hung fawn in a butcher’s shop, cowering from his advance that only threatened to exacerbate it all. There has never been a circumstance between the both of you that called for propriety, for anything other than venom to be exchanged.

Somehow, if it is possible, you look smaller when you are still.

Clean too, with gleaming skin that reflects the dim wash of the moon. There are the bandages peeking from beneath your sleeves, bound at your wrist, but it cannot take away from the remarkable chasm between the girl he sees now and the one that was trapped with him on Earth-15. Healthier, with diminished eyebags he remembers being ten degrees darker than your complexion, and a certain air to the way you stoop over your stomach, like it was just sated with a hearty meal. You lack any of the chaos he’s come to associate with you.

(Pretty.)

It occurs to him that a stable environment might’ve tamed the ferality in you, pinched your paws and declawed any remaining spunk. But, then again, he’s likely wrong about that too.

Ever since you slipped from his capture that very first time, he’s painted you out to be an opponent of able intensity. Everything you did seemed intentional; the worlds you destroyed, the moments of miraculous circumvention. When you’d phase out from between his arms, he’d curse your timed defence and feel none the more incompetent at having let you go. It only ever spurred him, for he believed that every second you spent roaming free, you were stewing over ways in which you could wreak more havoc. You grew and grew in his mind, transforming into a villain actually worth diverting all that effort to.

Parasite. A fucking parasite who just won’t quit.

He attributed malice to what had always just been rotten circumstance.

Perhaps there was never any spunk to begin with.

Because you’re not a villain. You’re hardly even a criminal. You proved as much, crowded underneath that collapsed building, spilling your secrets out onto his lap like a tapped maple tree. The accident with the antimatter, your post-apocalyptic providence. You can’t even control your powers, for goodness sake.

He feels foolish that his hostility towards you still lingers. There’s no reason for it to hold reign over his brain.

“Where does it go?”

He doesn’t have to follow your gaze to know what you’re asking about – the ninety-degree highway, with the train that pierces the sky.

“Up.”

You scoff, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. He takes a beat to assess the odd-looking cardigan. It glitches through an array of grunge textures, a peculiarity when paired with your basic joggers. Something bites at his gut when he realises why exactly that is, or who exactly it belongs to. Unease – he attributes the discomfort to – for the trouble you might cause should you develop a further friendship with the spider-punk.

“I can’t see its end.”

“It doesn’t have one. Not really.” He sighs, turning away from you and towards the glimmering beam at the centre of the city. “It leads up to the exosphere.”

You stay quiet. He glances at you in his peripheral. Your eyes are anything but. They’re wide, flicking through bright little calculations and questions you seem hesitant to speak.

“There’s a space station there.” He adds.

You shift, posture straightening. “Like the ISS?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

The conversation peters out, like a rock skipping over a lake, sinking into an awkward suspension. He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them to hook onto his waist. He wishes he could take the hard reality of things and observe it as a third party, as he does with his dimensional surveillance tablets. It would make it easier to sketch the perfect plan – a way to bend this conversation into something more productive than the topic at hand. He’d watch you for any indication of what you’re thinking – which he feels problematic for doing in real life – and pinpoint the exact moment where it’d be acceptable to bring up what had happened. He doesn’t want to stretch this longer than it needs to be.

Miguel’s about to throw caution into the wind, when you happen to do the same.

“A–”

“What’s the space station for?”

Irritation strings him thin, pulsing through the muscles that tense when he clenches his jaw. He counts his breaths, then grounds himself to the hollowness of his anger. When he’d been a father, it was a practice he’d utilised daily. Gabriella was so naturally curious, and his alternate self was a better man than him, raising her in an environment where questions were always encouraged. It took him a while to adapt to her constant quizzing, but he eventually understood how little she knew and how much she relied on him.

Patience came easier upon extending his regard.

The source to your current fascination doesn’t escape him, either. He remembers it clearly; the backstory that crystallises in his imagination every night before bed. The risks you took to touch the stars, how much it had all meant to you. He closes his eyes, nostrils flaring, before sitting adjacent to you, facing the city.

“That depends on who you ask.” He starts, slowly. “Originally built by Alchemex for their Mars colony project, it was their base of operations. Launch point too, for those rich enough to afford private space travel. But it was mainly scientists who worked there to maintain the artificial habitats and conduct experiments for further colonisation.”

“Space travel?” Subconsciously, you inch closer. Your voice climbs a higher pitch, and he can tell he’s piqued your interest.

“Nothing revolutionary. It’s fourteen months to Mars and back.”

“Thirty thousandth the speed of light…” Your nod is solemn, almost comically grim. He’s far from familiar with the scientific intricacies behind your statement, but he mirrors your gesture regardless. “Is Alchemax still investing in extraterrestrial colonisation?”

“No. They’re hardly anything anymore.” He doesn’t add that it’s to his credit, and the work he’s done to dismantle their oppressive grip on the country.

“So…”

“The space station is publicly funded now. To give a wider population of scientists access to astro-resources, as well as the opportunity to research them without relying on select, potentially corrupt parties.” He recites it like it’s scripture. You absorb it, though, every last syllable, letting it marinate before urging him to continue. “It’s called Second Base.”

“That’s…” You skip over the awe glazing your gullet, coughing into a snicker instead. “Almost as original as go-home machine. Did you come up with that?”

“Funny.” He counters, suppressing the smirk tickling his lips. “I might’ve pitched the winning vote.”

“They really need to stop listening to you.”

You don’t emphasise it. In fact, it’s the least conspicuous dig you’ve ever made. But it harks back to who you are – not a partner he can easily fall into a pattern with, this secure camaraderie where jibes are taken in equal measure. He can’t sit here until night dissolves to dawn, entertaining your precise fantasies, or worse yet, give you any hopes of sticking around.

You’re an anomaly, his responsibility and nothing more.

(He’s already toeing the line by not sending you back, breaking rules he’s established for everybody else. Despite any good reason for it – the longer you stay, the greater threat you pose to his authority and the society he’s built so meticulously.

‘They really need to stop listening to you.’

He’s afraid he’s manifesting that reality by talking to you beyond duty.)

“We shouldn’t have done what we did.” He says, because delaying it any longer brings a sick sort of dread. What he really means is I, not we – I shouldn’t have done that to you. But it’s easier to force the words when the blame in them is divided.

Your smile quivers, then drops. The reality of this hits you too. Your eyes harden from their previous, soft wonder.

“You’re telling me.” Your response lacks any hurt. Monotone, and he’s thankful for it.

“It was dangerous.”

“You weren’t the one suffocating.”

The seed of guilt in his stomach sprouts, branches tearing the tissue attempting to suppress it. The momentum dips as he takes a second to gulp it down. When he speaks again, his voice is weaker. Quieter.

“I di–”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I liked it for what it was.” You interrupt, shrugging. He takes the confession, bunching it up into a pill meant for swallowing. You liked it. You liked it. He loathes to admit that he did too, the issue of consent now aside. “I sucked your dick and you came down my throat. It’s hardly the most romantic thing ever, and I haven’t gotten that twisted. We’re adults. It’s fine.”

“Por Dios.” He rubs his forehead to dissuade the blush that arises at your explicit phrasing.

“It hasn’t changed my decision, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m still going to go home.”

“It’s not.”

“Then?”

“It… doesn’t have to change anything else. You’ve been hiding for the past week, your resolve along with you. Are you no longer interested in learning what you can?” Is it because of him, and his gross misuse of power as your mentor?

But then you look at him, for the first time all night. Your brows are furrowed like he’d just said the most nonsensical thing in the English language. Perhaps he did. He’s not being truthful with his words, this hurried confession strung together with clumsy sentiment. He can sense you trying to piece it all together.

“Of course I am.” You reply after much deliberation.

“To me, it seems like you’ve given up.”

“I haven’t, asshole.” He reels over the hiss, knocked off kilter. It’s only when he revisits his accusation does it hit him how insulting he must’ve sounded. “I was giving you your space. I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” He’s long forsworn his own proclivity. He’s not like the others. “I can’t send you back unless I’m certain you’re dedicated to the greater good. You said so yourself. I’ll continue so long as I can ensure that future.” You pick at your cuticles. He breaks his tone, so the next question doesn’t ring as interrogative. “Is that still what you want for yourself?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Miguel doesn’t speak in the following spell of silence. He waits for you to work together the explanation he hears forming on your tongue – a snowball of self-doubt and unsure superstitions, rolling, rumbling.

Eventually, you muster enough eloquence to spit it out.

“I’m scared to want for anything.” You draw in a shuddering inhale. “My ambition feels like a curse, or the plaque beneath my fingernails. Everything I touch with it turns to rot, festering beyond my control and contaminating everything within its vicinity. With my research, I condemned a whole world. With my running away, I replicated that onto many more. Just look at the repercussions of what happened with…” You gesture vaguely to his crotch. “The smallest things, the trivialest of desires. And perhaps it’s my own selfish inclination towards them, but in what world could they be anything but? I can’t… I can’t rely on my encouragement alone. I don’t trust myself enough.”

You could’ve stopped at the first sentence, and he would’ve still understood. It hits him almost scarily close to home, right where his heart is still tender and hurting over the fleeting family he once had.

He’d wanted for something once, too.

And he appreciates exactly what you need.

(He’s only seen you work so hard for one thing, and it was in that moment of arrested passion only six days prior – your eyes rolled to the back of your head, working him like a woman starved.

A temporary solution, then; one he has to watch over with hawk-like vigour so that it doesn’t moulder into something else. So long as you understand the boundaries – nothing romantic, only an addition to the encouragement you rely on. So long as he doesn’t lose the plot. So long as you agree, and go home by the end of all of it.

So long as the multiverse stays intact.)

“Tomorrow. Same gym.” He says, standing up. You blink up at him, and it’s only then does he notice the dry tears streaking your cheeks. He opts to ignore it. “Don’t be late.”

chapter ten

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cobragardens · 7 months

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Holy Kittens, Y'all: My Favorite Good Omens Moment Has Gotten EVEN MORE ROMANTIC

Okay so I wrote this post about my favorite moment in Good Omens, and the stuff people are pointing out in the reblogs and comments is blowing my freaking mind, and I HAVE to show you how beautifully this all fits together, like I am flailing at my desk about this.

@vidavalor points out this gif from @soft-ange-aziraphale [Source]:

Here it is in sequence (gifs 1-4 from Fuck Yeah Good Omens):

I can't stop laughing over Aziraphale's smile, which shows, as @quoththemaiden says, that he's "utterly delighted with himself" and knows perfectly well that he's minxing Crowley; and this tiny extension of the moment convinces me even more that Crowley is desperately fighting a smile himself here.

Actually there's a lot in @quoththemaiden's comment that's insightful and well-put:

Totes agree with all of this.

And then. AND THEN!

I knew Crowley was trying to communicate something with this Shakespeare line, but I didn't know what until @paperbunny and @musingsofmaisie put it out there: Crowley is complimenting Aziraphale here, telling him he's enjoying being in Aziraphale's company, telling him his humor worked.

Remember how I keep banging on about how much equivocation Crowley does? This is more equivocation. In 1601, Richard Burbage was 34 years old, so age hasn't had the chance to wither his infinite variety yet. The stupidity of demons and the ignorance of angels regarding the human aging process prevent surveillance from noticing the poor applicability of this line to Burbage, but since the first half of the line fits Aziraphale (who does not age at all) more than Burbage (who is merely not yet old) it stands a chance of indicating to Aziraphale that Crowley is speaking about him. And the underlying true meaning of this equivocal statement would be A DIRECT RESPONSE TO MY FAVORITE MOMENT: Even though I have known you so long, you still surprise and delight me.

(Crowley's Antony & Cleopatra line also accomplishes something else important: it gets William Shakespeare to go away so they can speak privately, because Shakespeare doesn't want them to see him writing it down.)

A Dip Into Speculation

I don't think the evidence for it is binding enough to say for sure, because the evidence is really just that it fits together so nicely and lines up so well with A&C's coded romantic messages in 1793; the (pretty overt, actually, I mean damn) romance in 1827; the size and nature of the fight in 1867; the yeah, really overt romance in 1941; and in 1967; and yes okay now that I'm thinking about it the whole series, but I have this View about how the rest of the 1601 scene goes.

And in fact there is Word of Gods that could be interpreted as evidence against this little pet headcanon I have, though it doesn't necessarily have to be:

Here's my assertion: Aziraphale volunteers to go to Edinburgh for Crowley. Crowley cheats the coin toss to accept Aziraphale's offer and to keep up appearances as a demon. Rather than making a deal with (or asking a favor of) an angel, he's 'cheating' him (without the angel's knowledge, but with his consent), which "moves the dials" of evil a bit and would also make Aziraphale appear less at fault if this instance of the Arrangement is ever discovered by Heaven.

This can coexist with Gaiman's statement, above, that it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale that Crowley cheats the toss. THEE ongoing leitmotif of Aziraphale's view of Crowley is that he thinks of Crowley as much more genuinely evil and much less in need of ways to create cover as evil than Crowley actually is.

(Which is interesting, given that he also clearly thinks that Crowley is not as evil as he pretends to be, that he is and wants to do good, and that he deserves to be an angel again. [There is a whoooole nother essay slowly curdling in the churn in my head about how Aziraphale is obliged to practice doublethink and how that stunts his personal development because that's what happens when people aren't free.])

Here's what I mean when I say Aziraphale volunteers.

Does Aziraphale ask in this tone because he is actually feeling suspicious and curt, or because he has to sound suspicious and curt? He could be perfectly willing to do Crowley a favor and would still need to sound the way he does. It's difficult for me to believe this guy--

--or this guy--

--are really all that bothered by the idea that Crowley might want something from him.

Crowley's response sounds like a(n unconvincing) protest of innocence. Maybe it is. But he doesn't disagree with the premise on which Aziraphale based his question, which means Aziraphale now has confirmation: Crowley called the meeting because he wants to ask Aziraphale to do him a favor.

Close your eyes and listen to Sheen's delivery of this line. The way he says it is so soft it's got no judgy angelic sting to it at all. Is this really a prissy answer to Crowley's semi-rhetorical question? Or is Aziraphale using the cover of a prissy answer to ask Crowley, Is what you want related to the no-good you're up to, i.e., demon work?

Either way, Crowley answers:

Is Crowley making a demonic jibe at Aziraphale in return to "You're up to no good," or is he telling Aziraphale, Yes, what I want from you is related to my work, and to your work, esp. what you've got on right now?

Aziraphale volunteers some information about his schedule and what it is he's got on right now.

--he says, and the velvety way Crowley says "Ohhh," tells us--and could tell Aziraphale--that Crowley already knows this. In this coded communication I'm suggesting, Crowley's tone on "Oh" confirms to Aziraphale that the thing he wants help with does indeed have to do with Aziraphale's trip to Edinburgh.

So Aziraphale gives Crowley his travel details: Yeah, I have a couple of blessings and a minor miracle to perform. It's going to suck; I have to ride a horse.

Crowley's like, yeah, riding horses does suck. You have my sympathies. (Phrasing it as an insult to God: "Major design flaw if you ask me.") And then he says, I have to go to Edinburgh too this week. Tempt a clan leader into stealing some cattle.

And here's where I think Aziraphale volunteers to do Crowley's Edinburgh job for him:

If, as I propose, Aziraphale understands already at this point that Crowley is asking him to take Crowley's Edinburgh temptation, then this response tells Crowley he's willing to do so.

And then they have a little bit of kayfabe theater and a little bit of miscommunication between themselves. Crowley suggests Aziraphale take Crowley's Edinburgh job. Aziraphale protests "You cannot actually be suggesting what I infer you're implying," even though, as Crowley immediately points, out, they've now done this dozens of times.

Now, obviously Aziraphale is pretending innocence here with "You cannot actually be suggesting," etc. But he's not pretending innocence to Crowley. He can't be: Crowley knows about the dozens of other times just like Aziraphale does. So the protest of innocence is for surveillance; it's the spirit, not the letter, of the protest itself that's genuine: I am reluctant about this.

And Crowley misses it.

He reads the surface layer of the equivocation, the Heavenly pearl-clutching; and the surface layer is where he argues. "We've done it before," he points out. "Dozens of times now. The Arrangement--"

But Aziraphale, visibly frightened and looking around, cuts him off. "Don't say that." Getting caught in an Arrangement would be much, much worse than getting caught in a one-off deal.

Why is this suddenly a problem? says Crowley. You know we've been getting away with this; you know they don't check up.

It's not pearl-clutching at all; Aziraphale is worried for Crowley's safety.

When Crowley says--

--is his tone half wheedling and half impatient because that's how he feels, or because it must sound like that? Is it soft only out of courtesy to the other people in the Globe?

There's no difference to the outcome of this scene or the story as a whole whether this romantic interpretation of the Edinburgh bickering is correct, because we've already got a solid base of evidence that the characters have romantic feelings for each other and show each other affection and care in this scene. In my opinion this interpretation fits the tone of the rest of the Globe scene better than only the face-value interpretation. What Gaiman and Mackinnon say about Crowley cheating the coin toss and Aziraphale not being aware of it can still easily apply.

While these three statements together aren't enough evidence to convict, so to speak, if my initial argument about the interpretation of "Buck up!" and Crowley's reaction is correct--and the cool stuff other people have found and pointed out suggests it is AND explains Crowley's Antony & Cleopatra line--this reading of the Edinburgh bickering is, if not ironclad, at least valid.

And holy shit, people, that makes this scene romantic af from beginning to end. I could not have asked for a better little gift from my fellow humans. 🤯I have such a better understanding of the entire 1601 scene because people from anywhere with an Internet connection sat down and spent their time sharing their ideas, and it just makes the lit-nerd lobe of my brain so happy. I love you all, you romantics and nerds and perverts.

#good omens #good omens 1601 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #it turns out my favorite good omens moment keeps going for the rest of the scene #good omens equivocation #crowley equivocation #aziraphale equivocation #good omens meta

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milkpup · 4 months

Text

｡⋆ʚ♡ throwing it back for the blue

‹𝟹 nsfw! 18+ oneshot

art creds: soy / twitter -> https://pin.it/6GKWjQW

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

by cafekitsune

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› 18+! f!reader/m ›› date published: 12/8/23 ›› 3k words

‹𝟹 summary:You're tired from exams, hoping to rush home and take a quick shower and sleep. Unluckily for you, you get pulled over on your way home by Officer Toji Fushiguro.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk , jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres/warnings: police au, insults, dubious consent, power imbalance, impact play

‹𝟹 tags: police au, police uniforms, uniform kink, cop toji, rough sex, manipulation, coercion, people pleaser, public sex, sex on a car, abuse of authority, au - no powers, dubious consent, being called a good girl, praise kink, degradation, choking, spit / spitting, spit kink, face slapping, slapping, spanking, vaginal sex, dry humping, cunnilingus, hair pulling, breeding, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, name calling, pet names, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji has a big dick

‹𝟹 notes: this story is originally posted on my ao3! hope y'all like it here too! i just wanna say that this is all fantasy. i am actually against cops but ima be real.... i still got fantasies lmfao X_X enjoy!

Throwing it Back for the Blue by milkpup

It’s finals week at your college. You had your last final of the week, and it ended late at night. Yawning as you’re driving, you want to get home as soon as possible. You silently curse yourself for living off-campus, it would have been nice to live at the dorms and have a short walk back. You valued your independence and freedom, however, and that is why you opted for a more expensive off-campus living arrangement.

You look at the clock on the dash of your car: 10:43. You just want to hurry up and shower, snuggle in bed, and drift to sleep. It wasn’t worth it taking the main highways, there would probably be lots of traffic from people going out on a Friday night. You take a less-used road, it won’t add much more time, and you could honestly make up for it if you went a little faster. Plus, cops don’t usually care enough to check out back roads.

Toji specifically chose this intersection because it wasn’t used as frequently. He didn’t want to camp out on a main highway, that’s more work, and for what? He always lived by the motto of working smarter, not harder.

He’s backed up on a street, lights of his motorcycle turned off. The abundant foliage and trees add more darkness, and it doesn’t help there’s very few street lights on these roads. Toji wanted to just take a break, smoke a cigarette, and wait until his shift was over. He already met whatever “quota” for traffic citations he was tasked with, he just needed to wait until he was off at midnight and could make his way back to his apartment.

He leisurely sat upon his motorcycle, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. He exhaled and watched as the smoke dissipated in the cool air. He clicked his tongue. He was slightly ticked off he hadn’t taken a patrol car instead. He usually used the motorcycle, but the brisk fall air was not pleasant against his uniform. The black button up hugged his muscles and body, he was glad he at least chose the long sleeve today. Although he had a bad habit of rolling his sleeves up anyways, constantly creasing and wrinkling his uniform. Thick but tight black pants with a gold stripe running along the sides provided him minimal warmth, however. The long black leather boots all motorcycle patrols wore made up for the inadequate coverage on his legs.

He groaned, feeling the cool air start to affect him. His moment of complaint didn’t last long as he watched a car run right through the stop sign in front of him. He clicked his tongue again. Whatever, at least it gives me something to pass the time. He quickly dropped his cigarette and snuffed it out with his boot, before turning his headlights and sirens on.

As you flew past the intersection, you saw red and blue flashing lights appear not too far behind you, picking up speed and getting closer.

“Fuck.” You groaned out loud. You were sure no cops would be there; why would they ever be there? They never were before. “This fucking sucks. I definitely fucked up.” You pulled over to the side of the road soon after.

The first thing you see as the officer approaches your window is how built he is. How taut his clothes are against his skin. You gulp. You feel like a fucking pervert, thinking these kind of thoughts in this kind of situation.

“Good evening, miss,” the officer greets you as your window finishes rolling down. “Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?”

You try to gulp again, but your mouth is instantly dry. You feel like a deer caught in headlights. In a way, you are. “N-no… officer. I’m sorry I don’t know.” You’re looking everywhere but this officer. You have confrontation issues in general, and a person with authority absolutely kicks your anxiety into overdrive. You’re sweating so much, you once read in an article to act like you don’t know why you’re being pulled over.

Toji clicks his tongue. “Little miss, you were driving exceptionally over the speed limit, not to mention you completely flew past a stop sign before I pulled you over. Do you understand how reckless that is?” You can’t see into his face very well with his helmet covering his head. You chose to look at his abdomen, but that’s not much help either.

“I-I understand,” you meekly stumble out. Your cheeks are flush, and you feel like you’re about to cry. You don’t want to get in trouble; you’re instantly apologetic for not being more careful.

Toji smirks. “Very well, license, registration, and insurance please, little miss.”

You shuffle around, pulling your bag into your lap. Grabbing your license and insurance card out of your wallet before reaching into the glove compartment to retrieve your registration. Your shirt hikes up a bit as you lean over to grab your stuff, and Toji takes this time to observe the scene. At least, that’s what he says he’s doing. In reality, he’s looking at the exposed skin from your shirt lifting and your leggings that hug your body. He licks his lips, thinking of an idea.

You move back up, handing him the materials. “Thank you, darling. Wait here while I run your information.” He says as he retreats towards his motorcycle. He radios dispatch, giving them your plate number and other necessary information.

He’s flipping your ID back and forth in his hand. He shamelessly takes a picture of it. He wants to remember you and where you live. Is it an abuse of power? Yes. And he fucking loves it. Your record is clean, tags are up to date, and the only thing wrong was your reckless driving this one time. He might just be nice and let you off with a warning.

He returns to your car, handing your documents over. He places an arm against the door frame, leaning against it. “Miss Y/N. I can tell you’re tired, and it’s probably because you have finals at the local university. I sympathize with you, and I’ll let you off with a warning this time. You have a clean record, and seem like a good girl who means no harm.” Toji smirks while looking down at you. You meet his gaze, feeling a wave of relief come crashing against you. You’re about to sigh with relief, before Toji finishes his statement. “However, because I’m such a nice guy willing to overlook a careless mistake for you, I need you to do something for me.”

You’re momentarily confused, as he’s reaching above his head to take off his helmet. His inky locks fall into place as his helmet comes off. He has vibrant jade eyes, piercing right through you as he looks down at you. “If you resist detainment, I will have no other option to arrest you. And we both don’t want that. So be a good little bitch and listen to me.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you could barely hear him telling you to get out of your car. “Step out of the vehicle, now.” You do not want to fuck with this guy, and you’d do anything if it meant you would still have a clean record.

As you’re opening the door and about to step out, he grabs your wrist and flips you around to pin you against your car. You can’t see much in the darkness, the only lights around to illuminate the area were his bike’s headlights and your car’s. He’s pressed up behind you, holding your arms against your back. His muscular and rigid body felt warm against yours. You couldn’t help but feel yourself getting wet as you could feel his hot breath against your neck behind you.

Toji was taking in every feeling of your body that he could. He spread your legs apart with his thigh, pushing against your core. You whimper as his thigh pushes against your cunt. You could already feel your juices soaking through your thin layers. Your black leggings didn’t do much to provide any modesty, he could see every curve and dip. He felt moisture as his thigh pushed into you more, and he had a cocky grin plastered on his face.

“Are you really getting turned on from this? Such a fucking slut that getting pushed against your car by an officer has you dripping already?” Your mind started spinning as he started degrading you. Your only response was a pathetic moan as he bit your neck slightly. He was leaving a mark on his toy for the night. It wasn’t going to be the last one he makes.

Toji groped your ass through your tights, feeling how soft and plush they felt. He felt his cock start straining underneath his pants as he pressed against your ass. Toji picked up speed and pressure, increasing the friction as he dry humped your ass. Your pants and squirming under his touch was a sight he could barely handle.

“Will you be a good toy for me, Y/N? I don’t want to get you in trouble, doll.” He muttered out as he kept pushing against your ass.

“Yes, sir.” You barely get the words out as Toji grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up. He tilts your head towards him slightly.

“Open, bitch.” You comply immediately, your cunt gushing more everytime he insults you. You’ve been used to praise your whole life, people taking care of you and treating you gently. But this? This was new and exciting. He spat in your mouth before pushing you against the car again. “Good girl,” he hummed.

“Strip from the waist down but leave your panties on, sweetheart.” He moved away from you, allowing you space to take your leggings off. You quickly removed them, tossing them back into the car.

In the time you took your leggings off, Toji moved to the front of the car. You finished undressing stood in front of him before he pushed you down against the hood of the car. He lifted your leg by the thigh, leaving one to support you and pushing the other on top of the car.

He spit on his fingers, moving them towards your already dripping cunt. “Tell me how this feels, doll.” He coos as he pushes one thick finger into your needy hole, pushing your panties to the side. You shamelessly moan as he pushes deep inside with his index finger. Toji immediately feels how tight your little cunt already is with just one of his fingers. He licks his lips devilishly, excited at the idea of stretching you out with his thick cock.

He adds another finger, and you already feel like you can’t take much more than this. He’s relentlessly fingerfucking your cunt as you’re pushed against your car. Your juices are dripping down his hand, as you’re panting and feeling your body heat up more.

He snakes a hand towards your neck, choking you as he pulls you up. “Do you like this, you little slut?” He asks you as he continues fucking your tight hole with his thick fingers. You’re too lost in the sensations to answer, a pathetic whimper the most you can manage. He pulls you by the hair to again, forcing you to make eye contact. “I asked you a question, didn’t I bitch? Fucking answer me.” He grunts out as he spits onto your face.

“It feels sho good, sir…” You slur your words. He’s fucking you with his fingers than any of the men you were with could do with their cocks. You’re already hooked, and he isn’t even fucking you yet.

He pulls his fingers out, much to your disappointment and groan of protest, before he licks his fingers and tastes your cunt. Fuck, she tastes fucking amazing. Little whore has a cunt that is just begging me to eat it.

He lights your other leg and flips you over onto your back. You can finally meet his gaze where you notice he’s staring at you like you’re his prey. He smirks as he drops down to his knees to be at eye level with your cunt. He normally doesn’t care for eating out the women he fucks, he usually only care about his own pleasure. But your taste, your moans, your body… they’re all intoxicating. And he would never pass up an opportunity for a free meal.

You feel his breath against your cunt as he approaches. He starts by kissing your inner thighs before reaching your core, where he gives a teasing flick of his tongue.

He looks up at you as you react, grinning against your pussy. He moves his tongue up to your clit, swirling around it. Your body trembles under his touch. He kisses and sucks your button, before giving it a gentle nibble. He wants to see how your body reacts whenever he does anything. Toji moves back down towards your tight hole, before he pushes his tongue inside. He rubs your clit as he tongue fucks your cunt, causing you to buck your hips against his face.

He moves back up to your clit, not wanting it to feel left out. He pushes another finger in your hole as he sucks your button. You moan profusely, feeling something build between your legs. You grab his raven locks and push him against your cunt more. “Please! Ah! I’m close-“ you stumble out as you feel yourself approaching the edge of pleasure. “More! Please! Fuck!!” You can barely get even one-syllable words out between your moans.

Toji fingerfucks you harder and faster, trying to get you to cum on his mouth. You whimper and tremble as you feel yourself being pushed over the edge, causing quite a mess. Toji is surprised, he didn’t realize you would be a squirter, but he laps up every last drop of essence as you orgasm.

He moves away as he reaches to unbuckle his belt. “Good girl… now it’s my turn.” You’re practically panting as he frees his cock from his tight uniform pants.

He moves towards you, lining the tip up with your hole. “You’re gonna take this like a good slut for me, right?” He deviously smirks while looking down at you.

“Yes, si-“ you begin to say. But before you finish, he bottoms out and forces his whole length inside at once. You yelp in shock, and a bit of pain. He’s exceptionally big, and the thickness is not helping either. He grunts as he stretches your tight hole. He lifts both your legs above his shoulders, pushing his body against yours. He has you in a mating press, ready to fuck you until you can’t even move after.

“You’re so tight, Y/N. Tighter than any bitch I’ve ever had in my life.” His jade eyes look down at you as he says that. Your walls clamp around his thick cock at the compliment, you get high off of being praised.

“Open, sweetheart.” Toji commands you once again, before he spits into your mouth again. This time though, he follows it up with the most aggressive kiss you’ve ever felt. He’s forcing every part of his body against yours, tugging at your bottom lip and biting it. He tastes the metallic essence, and feels his cock throb. You moan against his forceful kiss, while he fucks you hard and deep.

He pulls back until just the tip remains, before slamming back into your hole at full force. You moan at the action, feeling his cock hit your cervix. You’re sure he’s going to bruise you, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck as he drills his cock into your cunt.

He pulls his lips from yours, and spits on you again. He moves a cock to your neck, applying pressure that makes your head dizzy. You can hardly breathe, your head feeling lightheaded as he fucks you dumb.

“Your cunt is amazing, sweetheart. It’s perfect for me.” He coos as he releases his grip around your throat and allows you to catch your breath. Your moment of respite is short-lived, as he slaps your cheek, leaving a red mark. “I might have to make you my bitch from now on. I can’t stand the idea of someone else fucking this tight hole.” He smacks you again, and you look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

You look like you’re enjoying every second this goes on, and Toji notices it. He moves his hand towards your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit. He fucks harder into you, causing your eyes to roll back. “You like being a good bitch for me, huh? I already knew you liked being praised, so I considered going soft on you. But you’re actually a dirty girl who likes being degraded and used, as long as I finish it off with a bit of praise, aren’t you? You’ve probably dreamt of someone having their way with you, roughing you up, and insulting you.” He spit on you again, and you clamped down around him tighter the moment he did so. He rubs your clit more, noticing you’re approaching the edge as well.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m gonna cum soon. I’m going to fill you up with my cum. Be a good toy and cum with me, sweetheart.” He fucked into you harder, increasing speed and changing the angle to hit your sweet spot more. “I’m gonna knock you up, baby.” The moment his words rolled off his tongue you felt yourself cumming harder than you thought possible. You had a death grip around his cock as you clenched down, trembling and shaking under his weight. The added friction and pressure sent Toji over the edge as well, as he painted your insides white with his thick cum.

You were both panting, trying to catch your breaths. Toji lifted a hand to your cheek and caressed it before kissing your forehead. “That was amazing, doll.” He pulled out from inside of you, adjusting your panties so none of his seed could drip out. He wanted to make sure you stayed full until you got home.

Toji zips his pants and buckles them back up, before reaching inside your car to get your leggings. He hands then to you, watching you get dressed in front of him.

“So, as per our deal, you are let off with a warning. Please understand the consequences of your dangerous actions. There won’t always be someone nice like me to let you off and get you off,” He finished as he smirks. You blush after hearing his words.

“Thank you, officer. I really appreciate it.” You respond back to him, meeting his gaze once more.

“I’m going to follow you home, to make sure you get back safely.” He grins. You smile back at him and thank him, before getting into your car. You won’t speed away this time.

‹𝟹 end notes: i hope you enjoyed it! feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! originally posted on my ao3! i post there more consistently!

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @navi-n0 @starshipxoxo @comicalgrievance

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

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